Burning Down
by c.robb07
Summary: After Peeta's rebellious actions in the 74th Hunger Games he faces the terrible wrath of the Capitol. While struggling to keep his love with Cato alive he must face his own role in a burgeoning rebellion and new threats at every turn only to be thrust back in to the games for the 3rd Quarter Quell. But all is not as it seems. Who will survive? How will it end?
1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**This is a sequel to Moments of Change. Reading the first one will probably help you understand this story better.**

**Otherwise here is my first chapter for a sequel. If you all like it and are receptive I will continue it. So please leave a review if you enjoy and want me to keep writing.**

**Obligatory Warnings: Slash, Mature Sexual Themes, Language, Violence, and Death.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Hunger Games related. Except the characters I create.**

**Previously in Moments of Change: **Peeta volunteered for the Hunger Games in place of a young boy. He did it as a desperate means of escape from his meaningless life at home, suicide by Hunger Games, but also because of a defiant streak that begins to rear its head through out the games and turn him into the boy on fire, a symbol of hope for the oppressed districts of Panem. He befriends his fellow tribute Katniss and falls in love with the career from 2, Cato, who is nothing like the monstrous careers that come from his district. Once in the games he learns to embrace his rebellious nature while working to save both Katniss and Cato. Unfortunately Stasson, the career from 4, teams up with Clove when it is learned pairs can win this year (due to the audiences reaction to Cato and Peeta's onscreen romance) and they set a trap that kills Rue and Katniss. Peeta sings the rebels song The Hanging Tree as Katniss dies in his arms and reveals his defiant nature to all of Panem. In the finale of the Games Peeta and Cato over power and kill Stasson, only to have the rule of two victors revoked. Peeta wont allow the Capitol to win and knowing he can't live with out Cato they take nightlock. The rules are changed at the last minute and Cato does not eat the berries. But Peeta does, because he did not hear the announcement due to being in the midst of cardiogenic shock from all the damage he sustained from Stasson and he ends up in a five day coma. Awakening miraculously he is reunited with Cato and knows they can face anything the future may hold as long as they are together, even if he has invoked the wrath of the Capitol for his actions in the Games.

Burning Down

**PART ONE: The Fire Begins**

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings."- Anaïs Nin

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Ch1. The Long Winter

_Cato Ryves is the man of my dreams and together I know we can make it through anything._

Winter had descended upon District 12 and blanketed everything in a fine white dusting of snow. It was as if the world were reborn over night into a wonderland in the clouds. But the purity of the snow never lasted long as the black soot from the coalmines tainted the soft white flakes. Nothing ever lasted. The Games had taught Peeta that. Life was fragile and precious and pure, but easily trampled and corrupted and all too often cut violently short.

District 12 was a downtrodden and poor place filled with the misery and suffering of starving souls who wondered through life aimlessly, often working long and grueling hours just so they could scrape together enough to feed their starving bodies, only to have to repeat the process the very next day. Rest never came. Peeta had witnessed many poor citizens of 12 starve to death even when they were employed. He had seen mothers sell their bodies to the Peacekeepers for a little extra cash to feed or clothe their children, especially during the winter months. He had seen first hand the desperation of a society so crushed by their oppressors they had lost their spark, that light behind the eyes that signified a thirst for life and happiness and love. Peeta had almost been to that point himself. His mother abused him, his brothers bullied him and his father ignored him. He had given up on finding friendship, too scared to let others in and learn the truth, that he was gay in a district that didn't, couldn't allow such a thing. They needed to continue reproducing so the mines could be worked and the Capitol appeased.

But now he saw his home district in a different light. There was a current running through it, an energy that he hadn't quite identified yet, but that he was sure had not been there before he volunteered for the Hunger Games. It was finally possible that Peeta had not only given himself the jolt he needed to continue fighting for his life when he entered that arena, but he had given his home district, and maybe some of the others, the symbol of hope (and defiance?) they needed. Now they were reawakened from the foul trance like state they had existed in as the Capitol took what it wanted, their resources, their children, and their lives.

Of course nothing went unpunished by the Capitol. If someone tried to defy its rule, even in the subtlest of ways, they were struck down and ground out until nothing was left of them but the fading memory in ones mind. Many whispered in District 12 how the Hanging Tree was sung by a few in the mines who wished to start an uprising by finding and signaling to those sympathetic to their cause. When the Capitol had caught on they caused a 'mining accident' that killed most involved and then made it a criminal offense to sing the song. Peeta, by using that song in the Games and taking the nightlock, was blatantly defying the Capitol and its Gamemakers while also aligning himself with any anti-Capitol factions that may have existed. Punishment was inevitable.

Peeta was trudging his way back through the snowy field to the 'electrified' fencing that enclosed District 12. When he reached the 12-foot high enclosure with barbed wired lacing the top he quickly scanned the interior for any prying eyes. Mainly for Peacekeepers, he couldn't afford to be caught outside the district now that he was a victor. Yet he often found himself outside the bounds of where most were permitted. He never thought of himself as an instigator, but more and more frequently he found himself crossing strict lines established by the Capitol. After awakening in the medical facilities of the Capitol from his coma Haymitch had warned him of the dangers that now lurked around him because of his actions. Snow had even promised to be watching. Peeta could never have envisioned leaving the 74th Annual Hunger Games alive and so he never thought of the consequences his actions would create during it. Now he was facing one of the worst punishments the Capitol could inflict on him with out openly harming him and inciting an uprising among his many supporters.

Peeta slipped under the weakened section of the fence that allowed one to peel it back and create a space big enough for someone to crawl under. He got soot-laced snow on his coat and the knees of his jeans were stained with freezing snow slush. He stood and hugged his arms around his chest as he headed towards the Seam. The sun was hidden behind a curtain of thick grey clouds and would be setting with in the next hour. He wanted to drop by the Everdeen's before he returned to his home in the Victors Village and spent the evening with Cato.

In the months since Peeta had returned from the Games he had kept his promise to Katniss. He shared his winnings with her family so they could afford food through the winter from the butchers shop and new clothes to stay warm. He had also developed a strong bond with Primrose. When he had first returned to District 12 he was hesitant to even approach the Everdeens. He feared what their reaction would be to seeing him. Would they hate him for being the tribute from 12 that returned? Or would seeing him be too painful, a terrible reminder of the loved one they lost?

Fortunately he did not have to wait long for the answer because the very first morning back in his large and empty victors home he had a visitor. It was Prim. She had brought him milk from her goat, Lady. She had wanted to thank him for everything he did, trying to protect and save Katniss. For being with her as she passed on. She broke down in his arms, revealing how she had to be the strong one now, for her mother, whom she was afraid would completely break if Prim showed her weaknesses. Peeta just held her and promised everything would be okay. He would look out for her from that moment on. And he did. He tried to visit her at least once a day and she repaid him in her goat's milk. Luckily Mrs. Everdeen kept it together and even came out of her shell with Peeta's warming presence in their home.

Now that it was winter, Mrs. Everdeen also had a lot more work to keep her busy. With the harsh cold she often had to treat patients for frostbite, children who got sick from the cold, and those suffering from starvation (there were always more in the winter) on top of her usual patients from the mines with injuries or black lung. Peeta used his winnings to help keep her medicine pantry stocked and feed the starving kids to the best of his ability with out depleting his own resources for himself and the Everdeens.

Walking through the Seam was always an interesting affair for Peeta. He was not used to being the center of attention and when he came here he felt like some piece of art on display. He was an abstract painting that people would gawk at as if they stared long enough they might decipher him. He figured half of the stares were because they had never seen a gay person before, the other half because they were awestruck over seeing the victor from the Hunger Games who defied the Capitol, on top of the fact that he was from their very own district.

Little kids, some who would beg for food with their dirty hands and ragged clothes that did nothing to keep them warm, often hugged him. Other times he would get a simple nod of the head to show respect or appreciation for what he did in the games. A few times elderly people on their porches yelled at him in disapproval of his open displays of homosexuality during the games. But most seemed to accept his sexuality and a change seemed to be occurring on that front.

Like today, as he neared the Everdeens dilapidated house, a young, slightly overweight woman carrying two pales of water to her house just about spilled everything at the sight of him. She was attractive, with rosy cheeks and soft brown hair that fell neatly around her face, despite the dirt and grime that covered her clothes.

"P-Peeta Mellark!" She cried.

He smiled at her kindly. _So she's going to be one of those people, the ones who get overly excited at my appearance and lose their composure._

After settling her pales on the icy dirt road she ran to him and gripped both of his hands in hers tightly as she stared him in the eyes with tears. He was completely caught off guard by her display, but quickly regained his composure.

"Thank you, thank you." She repeated as she shook his hands and then let go.

"Whoa there. I didn't do anything worthy of thanks," He said uncomfortably. Because really he hadn't. He had killed in the games, just like everybody else and that was not something to be revered or congratulated in his mind.

She shook her head. "Oh, but you have. After you came out in the Games and everyone watched you fall in love and fight for it, you changed minds. I finally had the courage to come out to my mother and she accepted me, it took a bit, but she realized how hypocritical she was being if she could support you and not me. It's all because of you!" She sobbed lightly at the end.

Peeta was thrown for a loop again, he had never thought of what his actions as an openly gay man in the Games could have been, but it seemed he had changed minds on that front too. District 12 had never really dealt with the topic before. It was a remarkable feeling and something he could actually feel proud about.

"That is amazing. I'm very happy for you," Peeta replied genuinely.

She smiled brightly and skipped back to her buckets, lifting them up with her thick arms, and then turning back to him. "Thank you, Peeta. You have my support in anything you do." Then she continued on her path home leaving Peeta to contemplate what she had just told him.

He continued to have the same struggle in his mind daily since he awoke from his coma. He had already accepted his defiance in the game as a moot point. There was nothing he could do about it now. The damage was done. But he was now faced with the choice of holding on to that mantle as a symbol of change for Panem or dropping it and disavowing any rebellious behavior. Every time he thought of it he was thrown into an inner turmoil. If he continued to defy the Capitol he would only further endanger Cato, his loved ones and even his family. But then people like her would tell him how much of a difference he had already made and that voice in his head would begin harassing him, _you're not going to just bow down to the Capitol like that? You're a fucking Victor and you defied the rules of the game! You have the chance to burn down everything the Capitol has fouled._

Peeta took a deep cleansing breath and felt the icy chill deep in his chest. He then expelled the air from his lungs in a visible puff of air and moved on to the Everdeens. He puffed warm air into his cupped palms, trying to stay warm, while the dampened spots on his pants from when he crawled through the snow froze his kneecaps. When he reached their house he could see they had a fire made with the extra wood he had bought for them this past weekend. He knew he would have to do more for them, as there were holes in the roof and cracks in the siding that exposed them to the harsh elements year round. He had to jump the steps to their small landing in front of the door because termites had made the wood unstable and he had already plunged his foot into one of the steps once before.

When Peeta tried to knock on the door it swung open for him and Prim slammed into his body.

"Peeta!"

Peeta smiled at Mrs. Everdeen through the doorway as he squeezed Prim. She was growing and the top of her head reached just under his chin. Her hair was braided into pigtails as usual, which gave her that small childlike look, although they had over a month ago celebrated her 13th birthday. She was a beginning her teenage years and Peeta felt an ache in his heart knowing Katniss would never get to witness her grow into the powerful and smart girl Peeta knew she would become.

"Prim, how are you today?"

She let go and finally allowed him to cross the threshold and into the warmth of the fire heated air. Her fat and ugly cat Buttercup hissed at Peeta in greeting. That cat hated anyone that got near its Primrose. Peeta just rolled his eyes at the animal as he rubbed his chest lightly from where Prim's head had slammed into him and greeted Mrs. Everdeen.

"Peeta, is your heart giving you problems?" She asked with worry evident in her eyes.

Prim's own eyes widened in concern too as she looked at Peeta. "I'm so sorry! Did I break your pace thingy?"

"My pacemaker is fine, do not worry! The Capitol would not have let me leave the hospital if there was a problem with it," Peeta said as he shook his head vigorously at Prim and then pulled her in and ruffled her hair. "You know I'm a tough cookie. Nightlock can't even kill me."

The Everdeens both looked appeased by his words and let the subject go. Peeta had learned before he left the Capitol that due to his heart problems from the games they had to install a pacemaker to ensure that it beat properly. He knew there was nothing wrong with it, but sometimes when he was jolted, like by Prim's hug, he was reminded of its presence and the weakness of his own heart, causing him to rub over the spot absentmindedly. It truly didn't bother him physically; it just taunted him emotionally, reminding him of how his body had failed him.

"So Peeta, would you like to join us for dinner?" Mrs. Everdeen asked.

Prim bounced on the heels of her feet. "Oh please, yes!"

"I would love to, but I can't miss Cato," Peeta said regretfully.

Prim's smile fell from her face. She hated what the Capitol was doing to them more than anything else. Peeta loved how fiercely protective she had become of him in return. "I still just can't believe they did that to you guys! You're too perfect together. I want a love like that one day."

Mrs. Everdeen went back to the small stove to stir something in a bubbling pot. She always got awkward around the mention of Cato. Peeta was sure she supported him, but it was probably just a lot more than she was used to and he was not going to push anything on her. She needed to be there for Prim more than anything else, his love life and her approval of it were not necessary.

"I know. I hate it too, Prim." Peeta said with saddened eyes. "But you know what would make it better? If you two moved in with me at my home in Victors Village."

He had asked this before and the answer was always the same. But he desperately wanted to get them out of this house and the Seam. When he moved into the home his family did not follow. His mother had flat out refused to even see him upon his return. She felt his actions during the Games had seriously endangered the whole family and she would have nothing to do with her fag son. His brothers seemed upset by the whole thing, but he knew it was only because they were being denied the chance to have their own bedroom and live in the nicest part of District 12. Surprisingly his father had tried reaching out to him since his return. Peeta wondered if perhaps his entering the Hunger Games had woke up his father from the indifference he had settled into and maybe, slowly, one day they could have an actual relationship. But for now he was keeping his walls up.

Prim looked downcast now as her mother answered the usual. They couldn't possibly impose like that. He was already doing enough for them. They were fine here and it was not as bad as it seemed. He knew that in truth it was awful, everyday had been a struggle in this household since Mr. Everdeen had passed and now with Katniss gone the small place was becoming crowded with the ghosts of their loved ones.

"Well you always know my door is open," Peeta said.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and then it opened to reveal Gale Hawthorne. He had been about to step into the home when he spotted Peeta and the smile on his face immediately fell to be replaced by sharp frown lines. He dark brooding eyes always held so much pain and anger whenever he saw Peeta. His light brown hair was tousled on top of his head from the hands he ran through it habitually. He stood tall in the doorway probably close to Cato's height, but less muscular. He was built, but more in a lithe athletic way, from his years of hunting and running in the woods.

"Gale!" Prim exclaimed at the sight of him.

He looked back at her quickly and then nodded a hello to Mrs. Everdeen. "Hey Prim. Um, I was just coming by to drop off a turkey I killed in the woods today." He dropped the dead animal out on the landing for them. "I wanted to bring something by before I started work in the mines. I'll see ya," He said and then swiftly turned and left.

Peeta bit his bottom lip and looked at Prim. Her face fell as he left. She loved Gale too and Peeta knew the only reason Gale was not hanging around longer was because of him. Ever since he had returned from the Games alive and not Katniss Gale had been indifferent at best to him. While the Everdeen's may not have hated him for returning alive Gale sure seemed to blame him for Katniss' death. Peeta decided on the spot to follow him and try to civilize their relationship. They both obviously wanted to continue being a part of Prim's life and this bad blood could not continue.

"I've got to go Prim. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye Mrs. Everdeen!" He shouted as he exited.

Gale was already a good distance from the house and walking with elongated steps in the opposite direction of Peeta. He ran to catch up to him.

"Gale!" Peeta called to him.

Gale's body went rigid at the sound of Peeta's voice and then he turned to glare at Peeta with harsh blue eyes. "What do you want?"

Peeta finally reached Gale on the dirt path; he had to be careful not to slip on the ice or snow as he ran. The sun was beginning to fall behind the mountains and dusk was settling over the Seam. He didn't have much time. He had to get back to his home in the Victors Village for Cato.

"Look, I know you have your problems with me, but just because I am there does not mean Prim doesn't still love you," Peeta said trying to be kind and soothe any feelings that may have been hurt by his presence tonight. His breath frosted the air before him as the temperature plummeted with the setting sun.

"Thanks for the memo. Did you follow me to tell me that? Because I know Prim loves me. I've been a part of her life for the past four years. You think because you've given her some guilt money and shared a few meals with her these past few months you know her?" Gale huffed. His chest puffed outward, as he stood straight and towered over Peeta menacingly.

Peeta stepped back slightly, unprepared for the hostility thrown his way, but he held Gale's eyes defiantly. He was not going to bow down to his aggressive masculine posturing, but he couldn't deny his words stung. They struck a raw nerve.

"Fine, hate me if you want. But don't punish Prim. I'm trying my best to do what is right and I don't need your shit. You think you're suffering? Try a day in my shoes. I guarantee you it's not all the roses and sunshine you think it is."

Peeta then turned his back on Gale not wanting him to see how much he wished to cry at the moment. Peeta walked briskly towards the Victors Village section of District 12. It was about a ten-minute walk from the Seam and he wished to traverse it as quickly as possible as his mind sucked him back to his last day at the Capitol, the day after the interview, when he naively thought Cato and he would escape from the grips of the Gamemakers to live happily ever after in District 2.

They had been lounging in bed all day eating away at the hours by switching between stuffing themselves with the gourmet foods brought by their Avoxes and fucking and pleasuring each other. The interview had been particularly gruesome the night before as they were forced to watch clips from the games replayed back to them on the giant television screens so the audience could get their reactions. The Gamemakers obviously edited what happened with Katniss' death, but watching her die in his arms for a second time was no easier than the first. Cato's arm around his shoulder was the only thing that kept him sane.

But everything was perfect now. They had syrups in awkward crevices of their bodies from some experimental fun with food and sated looks in their eyes as they enjoyed each others love and company. But eventually it was time to get up and get cleaned. They had helped bathe each other in the large jet tub and Peeta became a little over excited as he rubbed his soapy hands all over Cato's well muscled body leading to another quick fuck before Lyme about broke down the door to get to them. They were going to miss their trains.

Trains. As in plural. More than one. Peeta's mind worked quickly to try and make sense of it, but he couldn't. He feared what the answer may be if he asked. So he kept quiet as they dried and clothed themselves before opening the door to Lyme and Haymitch But he couldn't stop Cato from asking the question on the tip of both their tongues.

"But Peeta's coming to District 2 with me, right?"

They both stood there before their mentors with apprehension rippling in their eyes. Peeta looked to Haymitch with concern etched across his face. He felt as if the air was slowly being sucked from the room. How could they have just been so blissfully happy and unaware a few minutes ago and now they found themselves facing the wrath of the Capitol? He was so stupid for letting his guard down.

Lyme pinched the bridge of her large nose. Haymitch swayed slightly, probably already inebriated, as he touched Lyme on the arm. She looked at him and he nodded.

"I've got this," His speech was lightly slurred, but understandable. He had kept his promise of sobriety during the games and was no longer beholden to it. Peeta found it disappointing he couldn't keep up his sobriety, but at the same time he now understood why he turned to the booze. The Games changed people. One could never look upon the world the same way again. Haymitch did not have the luxury of a Cato to keep him sane. "Boys, we told the Gamemakers of your wish to live together in 2, but… but they declined you. They wish you to go back to your separate districts. It is customary that the victor lives in their home district after winning and as 12 has only one living victor, myself, they stress upon you, Peeta that you return home and bring pride to your district."

It was as if the floor had dropped out from underneath Peeta. He had nothing left to hang on to anymore. The Gamemakers were stripping him of Cato. They had let them live, but not with out consequences and they were that each must live in separate districts.

_Cato Ryves is the man of my dreams and together I know we can make it through anything._

And yet now Peeta was being forced into a world where Cato would not be by his side. _How will I make it with out him?_ Peeta turned to Cato, tears already moistening his eyes.

"Cato, I-I—what are we going to do?" He clung to Cato desperately, needing his touch as everything began to crumble again.

"It's going to be fine, Peeta, I promise—" He was cut short as Lyme interrupted.

"I'm sorry boys, but they're enforcing their will, now."

Haymitch and her were forced aside as four white uniformed Peacekeepers marched into their bedroom. Two for each victor. Each peacekeeper grabbed an arm and began forcing them out the door before they had one last kiss. Peeta tried to struggle against them, but they were too strong and his body was still too weak from the five-day coma.

"Cato, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault, for everything I did. They are punishing us," Peeta cried as he was forced down the hallway and away from Cato's beautiful face.

"No, Peeta! Nothing is your fault. We will be together, no matter what. Get your fucking hands off me!" Cato raged against the Peacekeepers that held him back while Peeta was escorted to the elevator. They were not even going to let them say good-bye or even go to the train station together. Their time together was over. They would only be together when the Capitol allowed it from now on.

"Cato! CATO! Don't fight them! You'll only cause more trouble. I love you, I LOVE YOU CATO!" Peeta cried desperately. His face was wild and frenzied as he struggled against his captors. He held Cato's chocolate eyes in his own, willing him to not hurt the peacekeepers. To not do anything that might in turn endanger his safety. Then the doors of the elevator were shut on him as the Peacekeepers held him back with both arms and those loving eyes, those beautiful lips, that soft blonde hair was severed from his view.

That was the last time Peeta saw Cato. It had been roughly three months since the Games had ended and he had been forcibly returned to District 12. Everyday was a struggle as the love in his heart began to fracture and scar from the distance forced between them. All they had were these daily telephone conversations, which were never enough. Hearing Cato's voice only picked at the scabs and increased the longing he felt for his lover. What was worse was not only was the Capitol trying to punish them by forcing such a huge distance between them, but there was also a time difference he had never known existed between their districts. When it was six o'clock here it was nine o'clock there, wherever there happened to be located, creating an added layer of difficulty in trying to stay in touch.

And so now all they had were these phone calls, scheduled for the evening when they would both be free. If he missed it he may not get to hear Cato's loving voice for another twenty-four hours. Peeta picked up the pace as he moved his way through the merchant district of 12. He skipped the roundabout path that would keep him from passing by the bakery because he needed to get back in time.

"Peeta?"

He continued half-jogging to the Victors Village, ignoring the call.

"Peeta!"

A voice he did not recognize called out his name more forcefully from behind him this time. His footstep faltered as he turned to face whomever called his name. He did not want to stop, but the man that was calling him obviously wanted his attention and so he best give it.

"Yes? I'm kind of in a hurry," Peeta stated.

The man stepped out from the freshly darkened night in a crisp white Peacekeepers uniform and his heart wavered a beat. _What did he want?_ Peeta racked his brain for the man's name. He knew he had seen his face before. It was a harsh face, with sharp lines and scrutinizing eyes. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and had a light black beard.

"I'm sorry to bother you. My name's Darius. I was just hoping I could have a moment of your time," He asked simply.

Peeta's feet tapped impatiently, wishing to resume their journey home. But he felt obliged to stay as Darius was a Peacekeeper and it was best not to ignore him, even if most of the Peacekeepers in 12 had never been too awful to their citizens.

"Uh, okay…"

"Well you see ever since you became the face of gay rights in 12 I've been meaning to talk to you." He stepped closer.

This surprised Peeta. He was the face of gay rights in his district? He guessed it made sense, but it was not something he had actively sought out.

"Oh, really?" Peeta asked.

"Yes, there have been others in the community trying to put together a group. One that would be able to help improve the state of affairs for others in 12 who are gay, but not so supported by their families or friends and I think it would be great if you could come to one of our meetings and speak. The boy on fire would be just the thing some of our members need," He explained, now bordering on a complete invasion of Peeta's space. He was quite pushy and Peeta wasn't sure of this Darius character. He didn't like how he was a Peacekeeper, so he gave a politicians answer.

"What a great idea. How about you get back to me on the specifics and I will let you know?" Peeta said as he stepped back and began to head hesitantly back towards his home.

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you." Darius then gave a crooked smile and wondered back to where he came from.

Peeta took off at a full sprint for his home. As he turned onto the Victors Row he skidded atop an unexpected icy patch and fell on his ass. He could here the phone ringing out in the silence of the night and knew it was his. There were only three people in all of District 12 with phones. Haymitch, the Mayor and himself. He cursed furiously. He couldn't miss Cato. He had been looking forward to this call all day. He looked forward to them everyday. It was his one respite from the suffering and loneliness.

He pulled himself up and ran to his front door flinging it open and failing to throw it closed behind him as he raced to the kitchen. Just as his fingers wrapped around the receiver of his telephone the shrill ringing ended and took with it his breath.

They really weren't allowed to call outside their district. But since Cato was from 2 it was just another privilege of being from a favored district and so only he could make the call. Peeta beat his head against the wall in fury, completely distraught over having missed Cato's call. When would this end? Would they ever be allowed together? Or would the only times they'd be allowed together outside of the upcoming Victory Tour be if they both mentored tributes in the Capitol for the Hunger Games? The Gamemakers had really found the best punishment for his rebellion in the games. They didn't have to inflict any physical pain on him, just separate him from the man he loved. He felt as if he were choking on the smoke of an approaching fire, if the smoke didn't suffocate and kill him the fire burning in his tormented veins would surely burn him to death.

The phone sounded with its shrill bells and caused Peeta to jump about a foot in the air. He fumbled with his suddenly sweaty palms as he tried to grasp the receiver and put it too his ear.

"Cato potato?" He answered meekly and then held his breath, waiting for the response. His heart just about stopped regardless of the pacemaker's efforts to keep it pulsing.

"Hey babe. I thought I had missed you," Cato's voice replied softly in his ear and the pacemaker in Peeta's heart was finally allowed to jolt his organ into beating again because all was right in the world. Well mostly.

_Cato Ryves is the man of my dreams and together I know we can make it through anything. But we are not together anymore._ _Countless unknown miles separate us. _They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but distance is also an insidious parasite that grows discontent. Absence really makes the heart grow wearier, desperate for an end to the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you all for the wonderful reviews and follows. I guess I have to keep going now. I'm glad you liked how it started. I've got a great story planned, at least I would like to think so, but you're the judge.**

**Okay let's delve back into the story.**

Ch. 2- When Your Best Isn't Good Enough

Peeta found himself restless in the large and empty house in Victors Village. With only one person living in a five-bedroom home the emptiness of it all created a foreboding atmosphere like an added layer of gravity that tried to wear him down and drive him from the house. But this was his home now and he could not go back to the small apartment above the bakery where his family still lived. The last time he was there his mother had slapped him in the face and accused him of trying to get the family killed. She selfishly believed everything he did since volunteering as tribute was just to spite her and jeopardize the lives of his family members. He brought a hand to the cheek as if all these months later it still smarted from his mothers calloused hand.

Flipping through the channels of his television Peeta found nothing of interest was on as usual. There was a news report on one channel about the destroyed District 13 that he changed from, it was always the same information, still toxic and uninhabitable, nothing of interest there. Then he found himself on a channel that was airing a rerun of the 74th Hunger Games. He froze as the jagged face of the giant tribute from 4 was fully displayed on the screen. Stasson's black eyes were like thick tar pits that trapped Peeta in all his hateful emotions, his fury and his lust for blood. The mere sight of him caused Peeta's skin to blossom with goose bumps like a piece of water-warped parchment. It were as if Stasson was in the room with him and his heartbeat became strained, cowering behind his ribcage like it could sense Stasson was near and ready to finish what he had started. The crushing blows of Stasson's hammer had already left his organ permanently scarred and reliant on Capitol technology to keep it beating, it was not capable of taking more of Stasson's punishment. Peeta switched the television off and flung the remote from his hand as if scalded. He did not need to see anymore, he had lived it. That had been his life only a few months ago and the terror of it still lived inside his skin like an illness eating away at his sanity. _I'll never feel safe again, will I?_

He walked to the kitchen needing a glass of water to calm his racecar heart. His footsteps echoed through the house and he shook his head in disbelief. The house was so large there was an echo. He had so much he wasn't used to like clean drinking water on tap and an icemaker in the fridge. Which he never used. He couldn't stand his water to be ice cold, it was unnatural. He preferred it room temperature, although during the winter with the iced pipes the water was freezing anyways.

He drank down the water and felt a little bit better. His skin returned to its naturally smooth state as he stared out the window over the sink. No one was out of course; Victors Row was pretty abandoned with only two of the twelve houses occupied, so no one really came over to this side of the district. He felt his legs itch for something to do and he settled on visiting the Hob. He was always looking for an opportunity to spread a little of his wealth around and the Hob offered him the chance to get some fun trinkets. He was also running low on paint supplies. He finally had the money and the spare time to actually work on his craft. He enjoyed the ability to paint and draw to his hearts content in the study. Yes he also had a study, which he had taken to calling his art studio.

Peeta had been painting scenes from the Hunger Games. Making the art offered him a respite from his ravaged mind and the chance to process everything that occurred in the arena. His most recent work was an oil painting of the cave, the one where they had expressed their love. It had been the only sanctuary from the atrocities they endured. But it was just a still life of the cave and river that ran by it. He couldn't bring himself to incorporate any aspect of Cato into the painting. He had painted a portrait of Cato's face back when he first set up the studio. But once it was completed he hid it from view with a sheet. Seeing Cato's beautiful face looking back at him from the canvas only increased the aching in his heart, even if the sketch from memory didn't do the real man justice. Ever since then he had painted scenes from his mind that did not include Cato. He could not bear the reminder, he had enough of them in his own mind and he didn't need them to be haunting him in the physical world too.

Peeta went to the entry hall and opened the side closet to pull on his winter coat. Then he stepped out into the light snow and made his way over to the Hob. The snow flurries stuck to his eyelashes and melted against his warm pink skin. He hurried through the streets to the Hob, desperate to get out of the cold. As he neared the large ramshackle warehouse his nose caught the scent of all the mixed aromas created by the Hob, like burning incense mixed with smoked pig, coal, and sweat.

He entered and made his way over to Greasy Sae's stall. She was famous for her soups, but as he had started buying his painting supplies here she had been keeping an eye out for anything of use for him.

"Hey Greasy Sae, got anything for me today?" He asked.

The hunched woman with grey hair and a glassy eye gave him her gap-toothed smile as she turned from her large cauldron of soup.

"I got some hides a few days ago that would be perfect for you to paint on and Busey gave me some good oil paints she got in a trade."

"You are so good to me. I'm almost done with the painting I started for you. I think it's going to really brighten up your home." He smiled charmingly at the old woman.

She cackled lightly and poured a small bowl of soup for him. "It's my winter special, you must have some."

She shoved it into his hands and he could not refuse her. He knew she worked wonders with any type of meat given to her and her winter stew was famous. He slurped it down and groaned as the hot liquid washed down his throat warming him up and satisfying his taste buds. While he had money now he did not know how to cook for himself besides roasting a woodland rabbit over a fire, so most nights he didn't eat the best meals. That's why he had started taking up Mrs. Everdeen on her offers for dinner, knowing she could cook.

Thinking of the Everdeen's reminded him he needed to thank her. "Oh by the way, thanks for recommending Mr. Ebsin to me. He has been great and he works really fast."

"Oh no, no, thank you Peeta boy, he greatly needed the work." She then reached out and gripped his right hand in her frail one.

Peeta had hired Mr. Ebsin to do some repairs to the Everdeen's home so they were not so exposed to the elements. Mrs. Everdeen felt it was too much at first, but once the holes in the roof were patched she harassed him no more. Besides, as he had told her, Mr. Ebsin had needed the work too. Peeta thought today he was supposed to start work on the Hawthorne's home. Gale had started the mines recently and would not be able to spend as much time with family nor provide for them as much from hunting. So Peeta had thought it was the least he could do and maybe it would help with their icy relationship. Gale meant a lot to Katniss, he was probably her only friend, and Peeta didn't feel right not sharing his winnings with Gale. Although he did not tell him he was planning this, knowing his pride would cause him to refuse the offer. So instead he just went by to let Hazelle know what he was arranging with Mr. Ebsin. She had been floored by his offer and he could tell she was desperate for the restorations as her youngest, Posy, was sick from the cold draft in her small home. But she had pride like Gale too and was hesitant. Luckily Peeta's smooth words pacified her worries and she was more pragmatic about it than Gale could have been, what with being a single mother of four.

Once he had his fill of Greasy Sae's stew he paid her for the two hides and oil paints, making sure to leave a little extra for the soup. Then he made his way over to Ripper for some of the white liqeour she always managed to smuggle in. He bought three bottles and then headed back out into the cold. The light snow flurry had picked up slightly since he had been inside and he hurried his way back to Victors Row.

As he made his way by the Peacekeepers headquarters a block down from the Town Square and Justice building Darius intercepted him. His beard was thicker from before covering the harsh angles of his jaw line. He was a wide man, but not in the overweight sense, no he was solid and compacted with muscles.

"Hey, Peeta!" He called.

Peeta really didn't want to stop and chat. He knew what he was going to ask and he really didn't want to go to a large group therapy session for all the gay men and women of District 12. He already had enough of his own psychological problems from the Games and missing Cato, he didn't really need to share in other stranger's burdens too. He also didn't need to be putting himself out there as an instigator for change, not with Snow most likely watching his moves in District 12.

"Hello Darius. How are you?" Peeta asked cordially.

"I'm good now. Have you thought more about my offer? The group is waiting for you until we schedule our next meeting."

Peeta didn't like how much he was pushing it, but Darius was an intimidating man and one in a position of power so he didn't really want to anger him.

"I'm sorry. I've just been really busy, uh, preparing for the Victory Tours. Did you know we have to write our own speeches?" He lied.

Darius nodded sympathetically. "Ah, they should hire people to do that for you."

"I wish. I gotta deliver these to a friend though, so I'll be seeing you." Peeta held up the liquor bottles for Darius to see.

"Of course. I'm going to hold you to it though." Darius smiled and Peeta couldn't help but glance at his dead tooth, the left incisor a noticeable brown color.

"Please do." Peeta half-smiled and then made his way back to Victors Row. He thought he could feel Darius watching him walk away, but he didn't want to look back and check.

Once on his street he dropped off his paint supplies and then went to the one other occupied house on the block. All the homes had the same look, a neutral grey paint color with steep peaked roofs and red front doors. But the one occupied by Haymitch was easily recognizable as his curtains were almost always drawn and he had a thick layer of dust that was visibly coating the windows, while his trashcan sat permanently by the front door and overflowed with finished liquor bottles.

Peeta knocked once and then entered with out waiting for a response. His door was always unlocked and knowing Haymitch he was probably holed up in the living room with the TV on as background noise while he drank. Peeta navigated the cluttered hallway, stepping hesitantly over a mushy substance that he was pretty sure was day old vomit. He plugged his nose the rest of the way until he reached the darkened room Haymitch was occupying.

"Haymitch this place has actually surpassed disgusting and is really in a class of its own."

Haymitch sprung upright from the couch, startled by Peeta's pronouncement. Then seeing it was just his former mentee he flipped him off and laid back down with an arm over his eyes.

"If I wanted someone to judge my lifestyle I'd keep Effie around full time," Haymitch moaned. He sounded pretty beat up and Peeta assumed he must have gotten real plastered last night.

"Well Effie sure wouldn't be bringing you gifts. But I guess I can always keep them for myself." Peeta turned to leave.

"Hold on there buddy." Haymitch said as he struggled back upright. His eyes smiled upon seeing the bottles in Peeta's arms. "Bring one of those here."

Peeta grinned. Haymitch was such an easy person to please. He took the rudeness in stride because he knew Haymitch didn't really mean to be an asshole. He was usually just smarting from a hangover or drunk and Peeta could accept that because he knew what Haymitch was coping with. Their lives could never be normal again after what they suffered at the hands of the Capitol. Peeta had at least one nightmare a night. Usually it featured Stasson or Clove exacting some type of torturous revenge or the boy from 10 succeeding in killing Cato. He knew they would probably never fade. Haymitch only kept his demons at bay with the bottle and if that's what he needed Peeta would oblige because he kept his promise of sobriety during the games and worked his ass off to keep Peeta alive. Cato had told him that Haymitch even sat by his bedside in the hospital while Cato was under forced sedation. It was an affectionate display Peeta had not expected from him, but it made sense, as Peeta wasn't conscious to witness it. Haymitch didn't really like being caught showing his emotions so Peeta never mentioned it. He just returned the favor by bringing him drinks.

Peeta forced Haymitch's feet off the couch so he could sit next to him. Then he opened one of the bottles and took a swig of it before passing it to a grateful Haymitch who drank down a large gulp as if it were water and his dehydrated bodied cried out for its replenishment. Peeta coughed from the sharp burn in his throat feeling like he had just swallowed fire.

"Ripper finds the good shit." Haymitch said. "Thanks, by the by."

"No problem," Peeta replied as he felt the liquor warm his stomach.

Haymitch studied Peeta for a minute before he handed him the bottle again. "I'm sure you could use another."

Peeta accepted and took another albeit smaller swig. It still burned going down, but now he was feeling the effects of it as his brain started to buzz slightly as if flies were swarming inside his skull, the vibrations of their wings slowing the processing abilities of his mind. He hiccupped and Haymitch smirked at the novice.

"So how you holding up?"

Peeta knew Haymitch wasn't asking in general. He was referring to dealing with out Cato. Peeta didn't really want to talk about it.

"Oh you know, some days are better than others…" Peeta trailed off lost in his thoughts. He had found the best way to cope was to ignore that part of his life. If he just pretended that he wasn't really banished to District 12 and forcibly separated from Cato he could function. Like the sheet over the portrait of Cato, it hid the pain from sight so he could try for a semblance of normal, although he wasn't sure what that meant anymore. Some days he found himself wallowing in self-despair and unable to get out of bed. But most days he was able to make it through, knowing if he couldn't be with Cato they still were able to have contact and he was thankful for the small blessing.

"Well the Victory Tour is only ten weeks away now, you're more than halfway there," Haymitch said as he awkwardly pat Peeta's back.

"Yep." It was not soon enough. He stole the bottle back from Haymitch and took another sip. The bottle was half empty now and he found it quite apropos because that was exactly as he saw his life right now. The glass of his life was half empty with out Cato in it. No matter how awful things got in the Games he always had Cato and he felt like he could find the light even in the darkest of places, but now the sun seemed to be setting without the promise of a new, better day.

They sat in silence as Peeta slipped into a steady buzz from the alcohol. He could see why Haymitch took to the substance, if he wasn't careful he could form his own addiction. He found himself numbing to his inner pain and his body was warming wonderfully as he felt his head sway to the beat of a tune no one else could hear. _Maybe I should keep one of these bottles for myself, _Peeta thought. _Then I can just drink myself into a dreamless slumber. Stasson can't haunt me then._

Peeta decided it was best if he left then. He didn't want the temptation of picking up Haymitch's habit. He may have learned to accept and even love him in spite of it, but it was not what he wanted for himself. So he bid good evening to Haymitch and left him to his bottle. He hopped over the filth in the hallway and braved the cold air the short distance to his home across the street. The sun had set and a fiercely cold wind had picked up, blowing down the empty street with an eerie howl. Luckily his liquored up blood kept him from feeling the difference in temperature as he made his way home three doors down and on the opposing side of the street.

But he stopped short of his door when he spotted a figure waiting for him on the step. He hesitated, wondering who would be visiting him at this hour. As he got closer he saw it was a tall male figure and he wracked his brain for a reason someone would be dropping by.

"Mellark!"

He barely registered the anger in the call of his name as the wind carried the man's voice away. But then he saw those familiar dark brooding blue eyes. They were so dark one almost didn't notice they had a color, but Peeta had seen them in the light during happier times when Katniss was alive to know they were a piercing navy blue. Peeta always felt weaker in the presence of their harsh stare.

"Gale, what's the matter?" Peeta asked and he was surprised by the sober sound of his voice.

"You! Stay the fuck away from my family. We don't need your hand-outs or your pity." He was finally within earshot and close enough to land a push against Peeta's chest. He may have sounded sober, but he was not by any means. He quickly lost his balance and fell back on his ass. Luckily there was a fresh layer of cold snow to soften his landing, but there was nothing to soften the words Gale just spoke.

"Wha— excuse me?" Peeta looked up at Gale's towering figure flabbergasted. Gale's face was smudged with soot from working in the coalmines all day and it enhanced his enraged masculine appearance.

"You heard me. Stay away from my family. You may have convinced Kat— the Everdeens that they need your money," He couldn't say her name and somehow Peeta still felt sorry for him as he continued his rant. "But the Hawthorne's can provide for themselves, _I _can take care of my family. We don't need you to save us."

Peeta stood back up and brushed the snow from his behind before staring Gale down. "I know you don't need saving. I just want to help. That's all I've ever wanted to do. I have more money than I know what to do with. I'm sorry your infantile brain can't possibly comprehend that I'm not doing this to spite you or emasculate you. I do it in _Katniss' _honor." He made sure to emphasize her name, because he could say it. He could remember her and honor her, since Gale sure as fuck couldn't.

"Whatever gay boy, just leave me and my family out of your next charity binge," He sneered and then shoved his way past Peeta almost knocking him over again, before storming off into the dark.

While Gale disappeared into the night a particularly harsh gust of wind blew down the street and caused Peeta's legs to wobble. _Fuck, maybe the alcohol wasn't the best idea if I can't even stand straight._ Although he did manage to hold his own fairly well with Gale, he was not going to be bullied nor would he stoop to his level of name calling and shoving. He would not stop helping him because now he could see how desperate his cries for help were. Katniss' death had done a real number on him and no one seemed to notice his anguish. He was sure being forced to work in the mines six days a week were not helping him cope either while his family struggled to eat on the coalminer's meager salary. Peeta knew he couldn't stop trying to help now, even if that further alienated him from ever being a part of Gale's life because he deserved peace of mind just as much as the next person.

Peeta's resolve only further hardened as he walked back into the empty home. He had begun his day running from the house, restless from the loneliness and yet he found himself returning still just as tormented by the quiet isolation that permeated his large home. _Where is the person who will fight for my peace of mind? _Peeta wondered. _Do I not deserve it because I've sinned? Because I'm a killer? _He didn't know the answer and he felt a drunken anger wash over him as he stormed into his study and towards the stack of paintings against one of the walls. He tore through them throwing them about in a fit of rage. He stomped on them and broke them down until they were a trashed unrecognizable pile of splintered frames and shredded hides. Then he lit them on fire in the hearth of his living room with a demented satisfaction. He watched as they cracked and shriveled from the flames, being eaten alive by his suffering. He stomped back into the study and found the sheet-draped painting, which he ripped off with a wild cry and carried to the fire. He lifted the painting above his head ready to toss it into the hungry flames until his eyes connected with the soft chocolate brushstrokes that were Cato's eyes and he felt the bile rise in his throat. His muscles went lax and the painting fell from his numb fingertips as he collapsed to the floor in a cold sweat and heaved up the remnants of Greasy Sae's stew.

**Sorry if this chapter wasn't the most exciting, but I've got to set some stuff up before anything can happen. Let me know what you think of everything so far and if you're still with me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the third chapter. I thought I would post it since I finished it and thought you all might like to see how Cato is doing. I know you all are just waiting for them to be reunited and I promise it will be soon. Another chapter or two, but I wont tell you when. The wait makes the reunion that much better, right?**

**Here is a breakdown of the timeline:**

**Moments of Change took place over three weeks from mid-September to the first week of October.**

**Burning Down begins three months later in January. The Victory Tour is placed half way between the Hunger Games in mid-March. The Quarter Quell then starts in September again.**

Ch. 3- Broken Craving

"You failed the name of this family! The very least you can do is renounce your ties to him! It's time to start making amends."

Cato's father was in another one of his moods. Ever since Cato had been forced to return to District 2 he has had to endure the inconsistent wrath of his father. Sometimes Cato would go weeks with out speaking more than a few words with him and others he would endure constant attacks and verbose tirades from his father, the Victor of the 53rd Hunger Games. Today was one of those days.

"Oh really father? And how should I go about that? Kiss the ass of the Mayor; send gift baskets to the President? You'll never get me to regret my decisions!" Cato shouted back, feeling that growing irascible mood in him rise up like a dog provoked.

Mr. Ryves had picked a new tactic recently. He was not just beating up on his son for failing to bring honor to the family name by being the sole victor. No, now he was accusing him of allying himself with a traitor and that he needed to begin to turn the opinions of those in District 2 back in favor of the family and recommit himself to the Capitol.

"You will show me some respect when you talk to me, child. And you know very well that by continuing to talk to that boy you are aligning yourself with his seditious and subversive behavior and in turn tarnishing this family's hard earned name. We support the Capitol in this household and this district!" Mr. Ryves was so worked up spittle was flying from his mouth and a vein on his temple was pulsating angrily. Cato shared many traits with his father; most people could immediately recognize them as family while when he was with his mother it was harder to tell. She had red hair, which his sister had inherited, and a petite frame. Cato had his father's blonde hair, tall stature and muscular build. The only difference was his father's age was beginning to show as his blonde hair was peppered with grays and his crow's feet grew deeper with each passing day. Right now they were severely creased as he frowned in his fight with Cato.

"It's not about supporting or defying anyone, _sir._ I love him and I will not abandon him." Cato sneered in mock respect. He couldn't respect anyone who talked about Peeta that way.

Cato's father pushed away from the table where he was eating breakfast with a loud scrape of the chair as he stood to his full height. But it lacked the effect it had when Cato was a child because they were the same height now. That didn't stop his dad from invading Cato's personal space.

"How did I raise such a _weak_ fool?" He growled, bearing his clenched teeth.

Cato visibly bristled at the insult. He felt his mind clouding from the hate that was taking over. He might have been literally seeing red. "You didn't. Fortunately I was saved from becoming the sadistic murderer you were in the games!"

There faces were inches apart and it seemed as if they would come to blows at any moment, but they were interrupted by Cassadine as she flounced down the stairs, her beautiful orange-red hair done up in corkscrew pigtails that bounced with each step of her descent. She was wearing her usual bright pink dress coat and matching pink boots that Cato had bought her from the local Capitol themed shop. Pink was her favorite color at the moment.

"Enough you two! Papa give me a kiss, I'm off to school! Cato, walk me," She ordered them and both listened. Cato backed down and tried to focus on his breathing to relax his tensed muscles. They felt like steel underneath his flesh. There had never been violence in his family, but he was afraid he was on the verge of breaking that barrier and striking his father down. He was finding it harder to keep his calm anymore. The fuse to light his temper became shorter with each passing day.

Meanwhile his father begrudgingly seated himself having backed down from the fight as well. Cassadine was the only bright spot in this family for Cato and he doted on her fiercely so he made sure to let his blood pressure fall into a normal range for her sake. She was also her daddies little angel and probably his only redeeming quality. She had their father tightly wrapped around her freckled finger.

Mr. Ryves leaned over to kiss his young daughter and then looked daggers at Cato, daring him to defy him again. Cassadine then skipped over to the other side of the table where their mother sat. One might think she almost wasn't part of this family the way she refrained from involving herself in their lives or deigning to acknowledge their presence. She usually ate her morning grapefruit in silence and then filed her nails or polished the jewelry she would wear that day. Appearance and money were the loves of her life. Cato just shook his head at his fucked up parents and took his sisters outstretched hand. She was certainly demanding, but it was to be expected with the way the family spoiled her and Cato knew it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

They stepped out onto Victors Row and it was a bustling scene. Avoxes were in the process of expanding the street with ten new houses, as the Victors Village would soon be filled up if anymore District 2 tributes won the games. Cato had received one of the last houses on the stretch and he occupied it alone, not wishing to live under his father's roof anymore. But it was noisy as the Avoxes constructed the new homes, their loud hammers and drills usually awakening him at sunrise. But he didn't mind as it got him up in time to walk his sister to school. Not living at home meant he got to see her less and he desperately wanted to keep his presence in her life. Everything else had been going to shit and he couldn't let the same happen to Cassy. He wanted to try and keep some semblance of consistency in her life.

It was frosty outside and a fresh snow the night before had coated the peak of the Nut off in the distance. Cassy buttoned the top of her coat against the intrusive cold as Cato bent down to help her put on her satin pink gloves. Her pink ensemble and fiery hair caused her to pop, much like her personality, against the backdrop of the grey stone pavement and white snow coated roofs.

"Cato I can put on my own gloves," She stated simply. "Andwill you and Papa ever be nice?"

He sighed as he stood back up. He hated fighting in her presence. But he couldn't stand it, not anymore. The separation from Peeta had been wearing down his patience and he snapped at the littlest annoyance. It was like he were a sling shot being stretched back further and further. He wasn't sure how much slack he had left before he snapped back forward launching his projectile of hate that was bubbling in his veins.

"I'm sorry you saw that Cassy. You know we've never got along well."

"It's because your grouchy you haven't seen Peeta in like forever. But I've been counting the days down on my calendar and it's only six more weeks until the tour starts!" She smiled at him helpfully and he laughed. He loved that she was counting down the days just as anxiously as he. "I want to be the first to meet him. _Okay_? Not even Mommy or Papa or the Mayor!"

"Deal." Cato grinned at his sister's demands.

They walked in silence for a little longer and Cato noticed Enobaria was watching him from the window of her house as they walked by. Her black hair was cropped close to her head and he could see just the edges of her sharp teeth capped in gold at the points. Cato vividly remembered meeting her once at the Academy when she came to share her experiences in the game and how she lost her temper with one of the classes lowest achieving students during her training exercise. She had berated him unjustly and then when he was fed up and made the mistake of talking back she had seized his hand and bit off his index finger. After that Cato had worked extra hard to prove himself at the academy and suppress any emotions. He had to be like her, vicious and sadistic if he wanted to survive the games and bring glory to his family. But now that he had returned and seen the games for what they were he saw the monster she really was. He tugged Cassy's hand back into his and sped past Enobaria's home.

"Do you think they will let you live together after the tour?" Cassy asked.

He had been lost in his own thoughts and memories he wasn't sure what she was asking at first. "Oh, um… I really hope so Cassy. Its like a piece of me is missing and every morning I wake up hoping to find it filled, but it's only grown bigger."

"I'll fight them if they try to take him from you again!" She karate kicked the air trying to show him her skills.

He laughed and then pulled her hand up until she was lifted off the ground, then gripping her with both arms and he swung her around in circles before giving her a tight bear hug. She squealed in surprise and then hugged him back, giving him one peck on the cheek.

"Love you Cassy. Now lets get you to class!" He took off running with her chasing behind him.

After he had dropped her off at the school building near downtown he began to wonder the stone paved streets of the town center. Most buildings were built from smooth white and grey stone that they received from their own quarries. Usually the districts never got to enjoy the products they made for the Capitol, but being a Career district gave them privileges, like using the surplus stone for their construction, giving District 2 a much more modern look than probably most other Districts could afford (besides 1).

As he made his way through the streets he endured the customary attention he received whenever he was in public. He walked a fine line between reverence and disdain. He felt as if he were treading a tightrope, it was a constant balancing act yet he wasn't in control of which way he tipped. The audience held that power. Some were just curious of the victor from 2 that fell in love with a fellow tribute from 12 and managed to change the rules of the game. They usually gawked at him openly. Then there were those that secretly respected his actions, they usually were the quarry workers that received the least preferential treatment in the district and suffered most. They supported Peeta's actions against the Capitol and in turn respected Cato. They typically watched him with furtive glances afraid to openly support him. He found those people to be the least bothersome.

Then there were those that found him to be an affront to the values of their district. He had failed to be the strongest in the games by not being the only victor and they thought Peeta was openly inciting rebellion. Cato's relationship with him made him a de facto traitor. They usually glared, bumped into him or outright confronted him for his actions, like his father had done this morning. Cato tried to refrain from becoming violent, but he was finding it harder with each passing day. Forces were conspiring to make him the brute he used to wear as a mask and he craved Peeta's calming nature. He was the only person who knew how to draw Cato out from the monstrous façade he wore.

Probably making things worse was he hadn't had sex in four months. He was worried his dick would fall off soon from the way he beat it every night. Yet he was never as satisfied as he had been after making love with Peeta. The sexual back up in his system was probably adding to his volatility. He couldn't seem to find a consistency in his life anymore.

A mother was struggling to hold her young son back, but he broke free of her grip and ran up to Cato. He hugged his right thigh, as he only reached Cato's waist in height. He looked up at Cato with soft blue eyes that reminded him so much of Peeta his heart actually skipped a beat.

"I want to be like you when I grow up," The little boy squeaked and Cato palmed his head affectionately. His mother ran over, completely flustered and pulled him, hard, from Cato's leg. She glared at Cato as if he had caused this and then slapper her child's wrist.

"You do _not_ run away from mommy like that!" She chastised the child as he whimpered. "And that is a bad man. We do not support him."

Cato was too shocked by those blue eyes to care that his character was being called into question, although he growled when the woman smacked her child. No one should hit a child. Especially boys with Peeta's blue eyes. Peeta had enough abuse as a kid. That thought made his heart ache again, knowing that Peeta was trapped back in his home district with an unloving family.

He walked over to a small park between some buildings and sat himself on the cold steel of a bench. He sat there and tried to collect his thoughts. Ever since the games he felt as if he had been losing himself. The violence and death of the games haunted him, calling him to accept how easy it was to kill. It was in his nature. His father and the citizens of 2 were not helping as they plucked away at his resolve. He didn't know how much longer he could take the assault on his character before he lost the man he knew he desperately wanted to be, for Peeta. _Peeta I need you. Fuck…_

The sun rose high in the sky as Cato remained on the bench. It was the perfect place to hide as not many people came by him, most sticking to the street to complete their errands or work. He studied the way the snow melted off the branches of the hibernating trees from the suns heating rays. He wished he could join them, just melt away from his spot on the bench and leave behind the wicked thoughts that haunted his mind. Images of the final bloody blows that snuffed out the life from Stasson's eyes, the slicing and dicing of his sword as he cut limbs and throats of tributes in the blood bath, the cries for mercy he did not show. He wasn't sure what was real from the games anymore. His nightmares mangled the truth of his actions during the game and twisted him into the monster he feared lived inside him. But then he would see a reminder of the boy that changed his life and saved him from becoming another vile career like Enobaria or Stasson. He had proven to him there was so much more to life than winning the games. Peeta was a selfless human, volunteering to save a young child from sure death and refusing to play by the Gamemakers rules so the nation could see hope still existed. One could still fight the oppression they had been born into.

The rumble of Cato's stomach shook him from his stasis. He didn't know what time it was, but he was sure it had been hours since he dropped his sister off at school. He finally pulled himself from the secluded park and set off back to his own home in Victor's Village. He considered stopping by Lyme's house as he hadn't seen her in a while, but thought better of it knowing he was still in a foul mood and things weren't about to get any better for him as he bumped into his old friend from the Career Academy. He sighed internally knowing the slam against his shoulder wasn't because they both hadn't been paying attention to where they were going.

"Dreg today's not a good day for this."

Dreg was shorter than Cato, but still stood tall at around six feet. He had wiry shoulder length brown hair and thin eyebrows that were slanted in a sharp frown. He had a scar across his nose from a training incident at the Academy, which wasn't unusual. Most people got scarred from the arduous training regiment, even Cato, but his marks were scrubbed clean by the Capitol.

"It's always a good day to remind you of how far you've fallen," Dreg remarked with a pompous smirk, his rusty brown eyes taunting Cato.

Cato sighed. They used to be as good of friends as one could be at the Career Academy. Dreg was a year behind him so he was like Cato's protégé and admired him greatly while always keeping up a healthy dose of competition. But after his return from the games their relationship had chilled considerably as his friend turned his back on him for his relationship with a 'traitor'.

"Go away." Cato decided the best course of action was to leave before Dreg lit the fuse to a bomb he couldn't stop. Dreg put a hand on his shoulder and Cato had to fight his body to restrain himself from teaching Dreg his place. His fingers flexed rigidly at his sides.

"I'll let you alone today, Cato. But I thought you should know I'm training with Brutus at the Academy. I _will_ volunteer this year at the reaping and return glory to District 2, unlike you. There will be no funny business with the other tributes and I shall be the _sole _victor," Dreg sneered and then he let go of Cato's shoulder and walked away leaving Cato returned to his fuming temper from the morning.

Cato snorted and then decided the only way to salvage the rest of his day was to exercise. At least he could work on controlling his body if he couldn't tame his mind. He had a gym set up with various weight lifting equipments and once he was home he set about pushing his body to the limit. He went through his typical regiment at a punishing pace until all his muscles screamed from the strain and he was drenched in sweat. But even then he did not stop. He pushed himself until he faltered and then his rage returned two-fold and he picked up the nearest weight disc and threw it. The 50lb weight smashed into the wall and left a gaping hole into the next room. It looked a lot like how his heart felt at the moment. Wounded like he had been speared again, but this time the kid from 10 aimed accurately and gouged a hole in his heart right where he carried his love for Peeta. He needed Peeta more than ever at the moment and he cursed the insurmountable distance between them. He yearned to kiss those soft lips of Peeta's one more time. Just one kiss and he would know everything was going to be all right.

Instead he settled for his hand and a shower to relieve the tension that knotted his body. Water cascaded down his well muscled back. The rivulets of water ran down the grooves and contours of his back like a stream flowing over a stony riverbed. He stood with his left arm braced against the shower wall and his head bowed down under the heated flow of water. His sculpted buttocks tensed and dimpled with the fervent stroke of his right hand against his erect penis. The moisture from the water helped his hand slide across his rigid member with ease, but his grip was tight and working up a fierce friction that turned his mushroom head an angry red as he beat it towards release. The muscles in his back undulated like a turbulent ocean as his hand worked at a pace so fast his it looked blurred. Cato imagined that it was not his hand that was pumping his cock for its milky release, but Peeta's tight round behind. He imagined himself forcing Peeta over roughly and slamming in repeatedly. Peeta would cry out in ecstasy or pain and Cato would continue regardless, needing his release, using and abusing what was his. His balls tightened and his eyesight distorted as his stomach convulsed and his hot seed spilled out over his beating fist like a shotgun. He bit his bottom lip hard, drawing blood and containing a strangled whine.

When his vision returned to normal he watched as the water washed his seed away, spiraling around the drain at a dizzying rate before slipping in and disappearing from sight, much like the visage of Peeta in his minds eyes slipped away from him again. He tried to hold on, he thought if he imagined hard enough it would stay; it would become real; it would be enough. It never was. He turned the knob that ended the spray of water and he stepped out of the shower, toweling himself dry. He hoped that the rough sexual fantasies he was having with Peeta were just the result of his pent up sexual frustration and not his subconscious leaking through. But that was a thought for another time as he realized it was almost time to call Peeta.

Cato rushed to throw on his clothes and make his way downstairs to the telephone in his living room. He sat himself on the couch and dialed the operator of District 2. Many people had the use of telephones in his district requiring them to have an operator, which was lucky because that was the only way he could be connected through to Peeta's line in District 12. He did not know the number nor was he sure one could make a direct call out of the district.

"Operator? This is Cato Ryves—yes. Same as always. Thank you." He said and tasted the blood from his cut lip.

Cato waited for the ring to signal he had been patched through to Peeta's line. He propped his feet up on the mahogany coffee table and felt a familiar light sensation in his stomach. He always felt as if his stomach would float away, weightless, while waiting for Peeta to pick up.

"Cato!" Peeta answered brightly.

Cato's stomach did somersaults upon hearing Peeta's enticing voice.

"Hey babe," He replied gruffly.

Peeta hesitated on the other end. "Is everything okay?" There was a static crackle and his voice came across a little distorted. It happened sometimes. The lines were old and not well maintained in 12.

Cato wanted nothing more than to share all his problems and concerns with Peeta. That's what boyfriends were supposed to do, communicate, share in each other's burdens. But the telephone was never safe. They could never really talk about what was happening for fear that the Capitol was listening. So instead they had to pretend everything was fine.

"Yeah, sorry… I just miss you." Cato decided that was the safest and true. He realized he hadn't said that enough recently and maybe he was taking it for granted. These things needed to be said.

"I—I miss you too." Peeta heaved a deep sigh.

"Cassadine reminded me it's only six weeks now."

"I can't wait to meet her," Peeta said and there was another crackle over the line. "Primrose has been keeping track of the days for me too, it's sweet."

Cato was glad Peeta had built a relationship with Katniss' sister. He knows how hard her death was on him and he was sure it was just as rough for the sister to witness on television. They needed each other. "I'm glad you have someone like her in your life there. It makes me feel better that you're not so alone."

"Yeah…" Peeta trialed off and the conversation fell into a lull. It had been happening more and more frequently as the months went by. There was only so much trivial information to be shared about their days before it became repetitive. Cato pressed the phone against his forehead in frustration. He just wanted to have Peeta in his arms. He almost wished for the time they spent in the cave from the Hunger Games and that was a twisted thought.

"Listen, Peeta. I just realized I haven't eaten all day. I think I'm going to make myself something. Uh… we'll talk again tomorrow, okay?" Cato crushed his eyes closed and waited for Peeta's response. He didn't know why he was cutting their conversation short, but he felt like his heart was on fire, the flames being stoked larger and hotter with each word spoken by Peeta and he couldn't handle the pain any longer. Not tonight.

"Oh, okay. Well love you. Talk soon." Peeta replied confused.

"Love you too." Cato said and then he hung up the phone on the receiver. He held a hand to his chest and massaged it, waiting for the burning to recede. Nothing would ever be easy, not when he loved the boy on fire.

**Remember if you like my story to leave a review or critique. You wouldn't go to a restaurant and not tip your server now would you? **


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4- A Shared Bond

The sun breached the canopy of leaves and speckled the earth below with a vibrant hue of greens and yellows. Everything was soft and slightly out of focus giving an ethereal tone to Peeta's world as he touched Cato. Their naked bodies reunited harmoniously as their lips danced together lighter than a butterflies touch. Peeta ran his hands over the smooth contours of his lover's wide shoulders and cupped his strong jaw as they deepened the kiss. Cato laid Peeta down on the spongy springtime earth were youthful green grass spurted up from the moist soil and tickled his back. Cato's hand caressed up Peeta's thigh with feathery grace and repositioned it atop his shoulder. Peeta twitched in anticipation of the connection they were about to make. He dropped his head to the earth and stared up at the foliage above him, immersing himself in the feelings Cato was drawing from his body as he watched the enchanted forest around him vibrate with the life and love they were exuding. Cato prepped him and slid in effortlessly as if he belonged only there. Peeta couldn't last, it had been so long since they had made love and he was ready to burst at the seams. The sunlight grew and shrank in intensity with each of Cato's thrusts and the earth shook with their breathy groans. _Peeta._ His name repeated back to him and it was all he ever yearned for, to hear his name on the lips of the man he loved…

"Peeta?"

The disorientation of being pulled from such a sensual fantasy to reality was rough as Peeta came to the realization that he was only dreaming of the reunion with Cato. When he managed to open his heavy lidded eyes and saw he was still in his sparsely decorated bedroom in District 12, alone, he was doused in disappointment. If only he could have stayed in that dream world forever, where it was just Cato and he in love and safe from the Capitol's reach. But he wasn't alone he realized as he remembered the voice, which was not Cato's, that had drawn him from his vivid sexual fantasy. He raised his head slightly from the pillow to see his wide-set father standing at the foot of his bed with deep dimpled cheeks and a pock marked forehead. He jumped up with a cry, bunching the sheets around his still excited groin in hopes of hiding his indecency from his father's sight.

"Father, what are you doing here?" Peeta asked startled.

"Sorry to scare you son, I thought I'd bring you your favorite for breakfast. I baked some fresh this morning." He held up a little brown baggy with a hesitant shrug. Peeta knew the trepidation was over what his reaction was going to be. His father had been slowly trying to re-kindle a relationship between the two of them and they were both still unsure of where the other stood.

"Oh. Uh what is it?" Peeta pulled himself upright on the bed trying to remember what his favorite pastry was as he sat a pillow on his lap like it were a table to eat from, but also a means to further cover his erection.

His father walked over and sat by his feet on the bed, which dipped from his added weight. He took out a familiar spiral bread roll with powdered sugar atop it and Peeta's mouth watered.

"Mallorca bread!" He snatched the large fluffy bread from his dad's thick fingers and quickly took a bite only to choke on the powdered sugar that he inhaled in his excitement.

"Careful there son," His father said as he tapped Peeta's back. "I guess it still is your favorite."

Peeta nodded his head as he devoured another bite. He was creating quite a mess as breadcrumbs and white sugar fell atop his bedding like snow flakes.

"Thanks dad." Peeta managed to get out after swallowing another mouthful. He looked up at his dad and saw the smile in his blue eyes. Peeta was glad he had inherited his father's eyes. He had a look about him that he was a jovial man when he was younger with deep smile wrinkles and a mirth hidden in the depths of his eyes that was only visible when they broke free of the apathy of his life in moments like these.

That was when Peeta decided he was going to try: try and forgive him for becoming lost in his own world; try and forgive him for letting his mother dictate their lives with fear and pain, because he realized he needed a family; someone that shared his blood; someone that had his back no matter what. He spent too much energy running from and hating his family. If he could learn to forgive his father then maybe he could find the path to escaping his past sufferings. And so he stood up, now decent, and hugged his father. It was similar to hugging a teddy bear as his dad's soft, plush skin gave way to Peeta's embrace. His father must have been caught off guard by the sudden sentiment as he wavered but then his arms wrapped around his youngest son and returned the hug in earnest.

When Peeta pulled back he saw the moisture in his fathers eyes and it made him uncomfortable. He had never seen so many different emotions in his father's eyes in one morning.

"I—I'm sorry Peeta." He said.

Peeta's brows rose in surprise as he looked upon his father, but he didn't speak a word, instead waiting for his father to continue in explanation. His dad focused his attention to dusting off the powdered sugar remnants from his flannel shirt before he looked back up at his son.

"I know I've never been there for you. I kind of lost my self a long time ago. But watching you in those games… I'd never been prouder of someone and I realized I needed to change before it was too late and I lost you. Our family lost you. I'm just so grateful for this second chance and that you came back to us."

Peeta was speechless. He didn't think he'd ever heard his dad speak so many words to him before. This was all new terrain for him and he was unsure how to navigate it. Peeta knew there was absolutely no hope of salvaging his relationship with the rest of the family. He was already lost to them. But his father was reaching out and Peeta knew if he were to only take the hand offered then maybe one of his familial relationships could be saved.

"I can't say I forgive you just yet. But I will try." Peeta replied honestly.

His father nodded his head and then stood. Peeta had also inherited his height as his father only came to stand at about five feet and seven inches, but thankfully he wasn't as wide. "I can accept that. I'll leave you now."

Peeta was grateful that his father knew when it was time to leave. If he had stayed he may have pushed Peeta too much for one morning and only hindered the progress they were making, it was a delicate balance as they stood on the edges of a seesaw trying to figure out the best way to find stability with each other. Once alone Peeta got dressed for the day. It was getting progressively warmer as the days passed and spring approached, but it was still too chilly to not wear his winter coat, although there was an end in sight to the cold, literally and figuratively. In a few days the Victory Tour would start and Peeta would finally be reunited with his love and that was all he needed to get him through the final stretch. It was the carrot that dangled before him and propelled him forward even though he had no clue of the destination.

With a stomach full on his favorite pastry and an antsy mind Peeta decided to head out of the district and into the woods to do some sketches. He needed the seclusion and quiet to help calm his anxious mind and drawing always worked as a kind of therapy he could get lost in and suddenly time would have flown by, which was all he could hope for at the moment. Time seemed to pass slower the closer it got to the reunion.

On his way down Victors Row he smiled in hello to Hazelle. Gale's mother was on her way to clean Haymitch's house. After the confrontation between Peeta and Gale a few weeks ago he had gone to Haymitch and asked him to hire Gale's mother as a part time maid. It killed two birds with one stone for Peeta. Haymitch desperately needed someone to clean his filthy house and Hazelle desperately needed the work. This way Gale could not accuse Peeta of trying to give anymore 'charity' to his family and it helped Hazelle feel self-sufficient. With the extra money from Haymitch he wouldn't have to worry about their family starving while Gale slaved away in the mines for a pittance of a salary.

As Peeta made his way through town he tried to keep a low profile hoping not to be noticed by too many people. With each passing day that drew him closer to the Victory Tour and thus Cato the Capitol marketing started ramping up into high gear. They could never let the citizens of Panem forget about the Hunger Games and since Peeta and Cato, the star-crossed lovers, had become celebrities in the Capitol they were the focal point of the campaign. Peeta was faced with a barrage of images of himself and Cato taken from the Games and Interviews every time the television was on. His celebrity status had been fading slightly, but with the renewed push by the Capitol he found himself back to the center of attention as if he had just returned victorious from the Games.

Unfortunately he didn't manage to escape from District 12's limits before none other than Darius, his favorite groupie, spotted him.

"Peeta, you've been hiding from me." Darius teased as he planted himself in Peeta's path. Darius was not going to let him get away so easy this time.

"No, of course not. I've just been trying to keep a low profile as the Victory Tour nears." Peeta explained.

"Well then you must come by tonight before you are whisked away from us by the Capitol. We will be meeting this evening at 5." Darius set a demanding stare on Peeta.

"Uh…" Peeta couldn't think of a way out this time and so he relented with a sense of deflation. "Sure, Darius... I will see you at five. Where?"

Darius grinned, bearing that awful dead tooth, as he clapped a hand on Peeta's back. "Oh that is great to here! Everyone meets at my place in the Peacekeepers village. I'm number four."

"I'll see you then." Peeta said and then broke free from Darius, but it wasn't until he rounded the next corner that he shrugged the uncomfortable feeling. He walked speedily towards the weak spot in the fence, wanting to escape from the district boundaries before he had to engage in conversation with more unwanted followers.

The twig bounced off the fence with out being fried and so Peeta continued to the corner that he could peel back and reach freedom on the other side with confidence that he wouldn't electrocute himself. Once outside of District 12 he ran to the tree line and quickly disappeared from sight.

Peeta found himself drawn to the woods ever since the games ended. It was as if they had some magnetic pull over him. Wherever he was he could feel it beckoning him and once he was drawn there he always felt a little more relaxed. He knew it was odd and maybe crazy to seek out the woods after experiencing so many atrocities in the wooded arena, but now that he was so isolated from the people in those games that changed his life he felt it was the only way to be close to them. The presence of Katniss and Cato seemed stronger around Peeta when he entered the wooded area outside of District 12. Almost as if Katniss or Cato were patiently waiting for him in a treetop or cave and it calmed his aching spirit like one of Mrs. Everdeen's salves.

While trying not to dwell on his forced meeting tonight at Darius' he pulled out his sketchbook and sat beneath a large evergreen tree by an iced over creek. The ground was still hard and frozen from the weather, but there had not been any new snow for two weeks now and so he could sit without fear of getting his pants wet with snow melt. He began to sketch the creek in his notepad trying his best to capture the look of the ice and the sun's reflection.

Time passed in the silence of the forest as Peeta concentrated on his pencil strokes against the notepad. The only noises to disturb the peace were the random call of a bird or the scurry of a forest critter across the dry earth and the scratch of pencil to parchment. That was until he heard the crunch of dead leaves and twigs beneath a heavy foot. Peeta's eyes hesitantly scanned the forest for the source in trepidation. Had a peacekeeper followed him? If he was caught out here he knew the consequences would be severe.

Luckily his eyes alighted upon a young doe. She scrapped her right hoof at the base of a tree and then bent down to eat something she had unearthed, perhaps some virginal greens? Suddenly the deer's head popped up and her ears twitched rapidly as if to swat off invisible flies. Then she galloped swiftly back into the cover of the trees whence she came right as an arrow tore from behind Peeta and embedded into the trunk of the tree the doe had been standing at not a moment before. Peeta tensed, startled by the appearance of the arrow and his mind sunk to dark depths like an anchor dropped at sea. He was trying to save Katniss from Clove when an arrow unleashed from Stasson hiding in the trees struck him in the shoulder. Katniss screamed. Clove gloated.

Peeta involuntarily reached to grope his injured shoulder only to find he was perfectly healthy. It was just a flash memory ripped to the surface of his mind by the appearance of the arrow. With his mind under control he searched for the owner and sighed when he spotted Gale a few feet behind him.

"Do you ever take a day off?"

Gale swung and aimed his bow and arrow at Peeta with wild eyes, obviously caught off guard by Peeta's appearance seated at the base of the tree. The look on Peeta's petrified face must have made him actually feel an emotion towards Peeta other than anger and hate as a look of guilt flashed across his face and he lowered the weapon apologetically.

"Sorry, you startled me…" He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, knowing that pointing weapon at a recovering Hunger Games veteran could probably trigger some post traumatic stress or something.

Peeta worked to recapture his franticly paced breath as his heart throbbed in his chest. He hadn't come this close to weaponry since the games ended and all the memories and emotions rushing his system were overwhelming.

"It's okay. I should be used to weapons being pulled on me." Peeta tried to laugh it off, but he still carried a pained expression of grief.

"Well to answer you question, no, I don't take a day off. I can't afford such luxuries with a family always a day away from starving. I don't have blood money to support my family."

Peeta bristled at the insult. "Oh just fuck off already. I don't have the patience for your angst today Gale."

"Fine by me." Gale turned to walk away, but Peeta felt a spike of rage at the site of the turned back.

"No! You know what?" Peeta shouted at Gale. He turned with an amused look on his face, as if Peeta's anger were just that of a petulant child.

"Yes?" He prompted snidely.

Peeta stood from his spot against the evergreen and ranted, "I'm tired of you treating me like I'm the villain. I have done nothing wrong and _especially_ to you. All I've ever done is try to be nice and helpful. I didn't ask for any of this to happen to me and I sure as hell don't deserve your disrespect and hatefulness." Peeta vented with a rush of air and urgency afraid if he didn't spew it all out he would lose his train of thought or composure in the bubbling pot of rage that was seated in the pit of his stomach. "Just, just what is your problem with me?"

"Everything. You lived and Katniss died. You're the hero and she's forgotten. You're stealing everything away from me that she left behind!" Gale railed against Peeta as he stormed back closer to him.

He said it with such fury and pent up frustration Peeta knew he must have been holding those hateful words in for a long time and now that Peeta had opened the door to this fight the floodgates were finally breaking. Gale invaded Peeta's personal space with his broad chest puffed out and unruly face mere inches from Peeta's. Peeta looked up into Gale's cobalt blue eyes with an equally wild presence behind his shimmering blue orbs. He was not going to be made to feel guilty for Katniss' death by Gale.

"I am _not_ trying to steal anything from you! You can't or won't forgive me for Katniss' death and so you see me only the way you want to. I tried to save Katniss!"

Peeta wavered on her name as he remembered how much she sacrificed for him in the games. He was back in that clearing, holding her body in his arms as she choked on her own blood. She had believed in Peeta and thought he could become something greater. She had worked to protect him and what had he done since the games? Surely nothing to live up to the expectations she had placed on his shoulders. Instead he pined for his lover and fought with her best friend while ignoring his growing reputation in the community as a leader. It was too much.

"You should have tried harder! You should have done more! You should have teamed up with her, instead you abandoned her for some _career._" Gale sneered the word and Peeta fell back into the tree behind him like Gale had physically struck him. He felt his eyes sting and he was unable to staunch the flood of images. Images of carrying Katniss weak and dying in his arms, of her dying against his chest as he sang to her The Hanging Tree, of laying a wreath of flowers around her lifeless body.

Peeta felt numb and disoriented, had he abandoned her? Could he have done more to save her? Did he fail his district partner? He licked his dry lips and tasted the salt of his own tears. He had not even realized they'd flooded over and escaped the captivity of his eyelids.

"I—I… you're right Gale. I failed her. I should have done more. I miss her every day and what is worse are some days I even envy her, because she got to die in that Arena. For her it's over, all the suffering, oppression, the hate and pain inflicted by the Capitol continues for us and for her she is finally at rest…" Peeta pulled himself back up from against the rough tree trunk and pushed firmly against Gale's chest as he laid out his last point before he deflated, all his fight lost. "But I do deserve better and frankly I expected better from someone whom Katniss called a friend. She didn't just hand that title out to anyone."

Peeta then planted himself back down on the cold hard earth in resignation. He was done. There was nothing more to be said between them. It seemed they were doomed to be irreconcilable. Gale remained silent, his face frozen in a mixture of disbelief and confusion, before he rested his bow on the dry earth and surprisingly took a seat across from Peeta. Peeta analyzed him closely, waiting for the gimmick to be exposed. Thankfully the tears had stopped flowing, although his eyes were still ominously wet. He would have thought by now that Gale would have left him with one last stinging retort, giving as good as he got, but instead he picked at the caked mud on his boot and avoided Peeta's eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, it was so quiet Peeta would have been unsure anything had been said at all except for the fact that now Gale was holding eye contact with Peeta and looking truly repentant. His strong and masculine face, which usually held such harsh frown lines and stares when in Peeta's presence, was softened and youthful. Peeta was reminded in this instance that Gale was only a year older than him, but due to the way he always treated Peeta, often in a scolding manner, Gale felt much older than him.

"I'm sorry, Peeta. You're right, completely and utterly. I'm such an asshole." He brushed his large calloused miner's hands over his face with dejection.

"You're not the enemy. The fucking Capitol ruins lives and takes everything we love. I just needed something real to hate and I guess I chose you, which was completely unfair. I can't believe I never thought of it until now, but you lost Katniss too, out in those games and that can't have been easy."

Peeta watched Gale as his expressions flickered from one emotion to the next in an endless tug-of-war. He seemed unable to decide what he wanted to feel as anger, sympathy, misery, and regret all traded places with the handsome features of his face. Peeta had already run out of words by now so he reached out with his hand and laid it across Gale's knee. He hesitated when Gale's sharp eyes focused on their connection, but when he said nothing Peeta knew he had accepted the touch. They shared a common bond in the death of Katniss and few others could truly appreciate the grief they held over it. Peeta was hopeful, for the first time in a while, that maybe a page had turned in their relationship.

"It wasn't." Peeta finally spoke.

Gale looked at Peeta questioningly with bloodshot eyes from the way he fiercely rubbed them with his palm.

"I mean… losing her in the arena. H-holding her through her last breath. I've never had to do anything as hard as that. It's a t-terrible burden to have to be the one that guides someone through their final moments. You could never be prepared for it and what—what if it wasn't good enough? What if you could have done more, to make it an easy transition?" Peeta paused as he felt a tremor in his heart. He hated how he had some alien Capitol technology in his body and how his heart was a constant reminder of it. It made him feel violated, like the most basic and important piece of his anatomy had turned against him. Gale watched him with an astute look trying to decipher Peeta's break.

Peeta continued, "But it can't have been easy for you to watch, unable to do anything to stop it. No position is enviable, Gale, and I think instead of blaming one another we should lean on each other. Maybe even though we lost Katniss we can still find a way to keep her alive between us."

Gale placed his hand over Peeta's, which was still resting against his knee, and he smiled at Peeta. It was the first time Peeta had been on the receiving end of Gale's smile and it was disorienting in its enveloping warmth and tenderness.

"You're a better man than I, Peeta Mellark. I don't know if I were in your shoes if I'd have been able to treat me with such kindness and compassion after the way I acted towards you. It's not right." Gale remarked with a soft voice that Peeta still found uncharacteristic of him as he was so used to their short and terse, if not outright aggressive, interactions.

"I know there's a good man in you too, Gale. The way you sacrifice everything for your family is enviable. Don't put yourself down." Peeta slipped his hand out from under Gale's sensing an end to their encounter and the afternoon in general. Gale readjusted the position of his hand and coughed with embarrassment. Peeta suppressed a smile. "I think it's time I headed back. I hope you catch something soon, but if not… well you know I'm always happy to help."

Gale stood with Peeta and nodded. "Thank you, Peeta. I mean it, for not giving up on my family and I. I know you got my mother hired by Haymitch."

Peeta packed away his sketchbook and shrugged nonchalantly. "I do not know what you are talking about." Peeta replied, but this time he couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his pink lips.

"Uh huh," Gale said knowingly while bending to collect his bow and arrow from the ground. Then headed across the frozen creek towards where the doe had escaped. "I'll see you soon, Peeta."

Peeta waved and then headed back towards the fence with a strong sense of satisfaction. With each day that passed and the closer he got to his reunion with Cato for the Victory Tour things seemed to be looking up and getting better. He was on his way to a mended relationship with his father and now it seemed as if maybe Gale and he could actually be friends. He wondered if maybe things didn't have to be so damn dark and depressing anymore…

After eating a quick supper he begrudgingly pulled on his heavy coat and boots before heading out the door towards the Peacekeeper Village. He had promised he would go with an open mind, but as the sun crept below the towering mountains and the cold wind slapped his face he found it hard to keep himself from just turning around and ditching the meeting.

Except today had turned out to be quite a good day and he figured he might as well give this a shot. He needed to start taking a more active role in District 12. He may have become a celebrity in the Capitol for his popular romance on screen, but here in his home district he had become a hero and leader of something yet to be determined. He just had to find the right balance so as not to draw more attention to himself from President Snow. Meeting with a gay support group didn't seem too mutinous.

The Peacekeeper Village happened to be close to Victor's Row making Peeta's journey through the cold and encroaching dark a short one. Once reaching the end of Victor's Row he headed left a short ways towards the town Square and Justice building but stopped short of entering the square and instead headed to the left on a side street composed of relatively large single story homes for the Peacekeepers, the largest one being at the end of the block for the head Peacekeeper Cray. If he wanted he could use this street as a short cut to reach the Seam, but he often went the long way to avoid the Peacekeepers. The wind was very noisy as it barreled down the street with a sharp howl. Peeta wrapped his coat tighter against his body and squinted to locate number four.

He found it easily enough. The front porch light was left on, probably to help all the members find the meeting place. Peeta approached the thick wooden door and rapped his knuckles against it. He thought he heard a reply shouted at him through the door, but the whine of the wind made it indecipherable. So he knocked once more and heard another shout. Peeta assumed it must mean for him to come in. He tested the knob and sure enough it was unlocked.

The door shut out the cold wind behind Peeta as he entered the cozy and warm home of Darius.

"Darius?" He called out and hesitated in the hallway unsure of where he should go.

"I'm just preparing some food. Make yourself at home, Peeta!" Darius shouted from what Peeta assumed was the kitchen.

Upon spotting a fireplace to his right Peeta quickly headed towards it with the intent of warming his hands and body with it's delicious heat. As he held his hands near the flickering flames of the fireplace and felt the warmth creep up his finger tips returning them to life he also felt a creeping sensation up the back of his neck. As the troubling sensation rose up his spine to his neck, so did his soft blonde hairs.

Trying to place the odd feeling Peeta looked around the sparsely decorated room. There was a stained couch positioned near the fireplace and a coffee table with a stack of papers on it. There were two uncomfortable looking wooden chairs on the opposing side of the coffee table. Towards the front of the house underneath the window stood another table with framed pictures and a small electronic device that might have been a personal camera. Peeta had never seen one so he wasn't sure. He neared the table to get a closer look at it, but his eye got caught on the framed photo. It was quite disorienting to see the photo here. He knew the Capitol sold memorabilia and photo's from the games as collectables, but to find one of them here, at Darius' place was odd to say the least. It was a photo of Peeta waving at the crowd as he walked across the stage for his interview. It was a stunning photo that captured the magic of his flaming tux and complimented Peeta handsomely, but seemed like a very unusual thing to have framed on a table.

Peeta's eyes scanned the rest of the photo's along the table and was downright disturbed to find all of them were framed pictures of him from the Hunger Games. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to full attention now as his eyes widened with each picture he glanced at. There was one Peeta knew Cato should have been in, but he was cut from the picture. The most terrifying one was the last photo on the table. It was a personal picture that Darius must have taken with the camera. It was a photo of Peeta painting in his self-made art studio.

"What the…" Peeta gasped.

He backed away from the table and turned around to quickly head towards the door only to find Darius blocking the entryway and watching him with a crooked smile. How long had he been watching him Peeta did not know. His eyes scanned down Darius' right arm to the gun held firmly in his hand and Peeta's stomach churned. That was finally when Peeta realized they were alone. No one else was here. There was no meeting for a gay support group happening tonight. There might not have even been a gay support group. It was all probably just a ploy. No, Peeta was on his own and now facing a frightening Darius whose smile seemed to grow in size until it cannibalized his face.

**REVIEW! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well let's just jump right back into the action. What's going to happen to poor Peeta?**

Ch. 5 – Capital Threats

Peeta had survived the Hunger Games; he killed people with his bare hands. He watched the life flicker from a person's eyes. He tore open the stomach of a kid. He speared a girl through the chest. He never wanted to be involved in the horrors of death and bloodshed again. But he thought he should at least be used to it, numb to violence and fear. Instead he stood paralyzed at the sight of Darius, his carnivorous smile, and silver gun that glinted in the light. Peeta's breath was ragged from the threat of violence that loomed thick in the air like a suffocating cloud of smoke.

But maybe it was because this was different. Peeta knew what it was like to come face-to-face with an attacker. Stasson hunted him relentlessly throughout the games. But this was no ordinary hunt. Peeta was Darius' prey, but he was not hunting to become victor and survive. He wanted Peeta alive. He had plans for Peeta. He had followed him and stalked him and yet his intentions were still a mystery to Peeta and that was probably the most terrifying part along with the fact that he had never been held hostage at gunpoint. He'd never even seen a gun up close until now, but their capabilities were all too well known. He knew how to handle facing an attacker who wanted him dead. So why did Darius lure him here under false pretenses?

Peeta regained some control of his motor functions and hesitantly stepped a foot backwards. The movement must have broken the spell that had frozen both them in place; Peeta in fear and Darius basking in the moment of having finally caught his mouse.

"Don't you try anything now," Darius said with a casual flick of his gun to emphasize the consequence of disobedience.

Peeta reflexively held his hands up in surrender and asked in a friendly voice, "Come on now, Darius. What are you doing? Was there ever even a support group?"

Peeta thought just maybe if he could get him to talk there might be a way out of this. Darius didn't look like he wanted to hurt Peeta; he just had what seemed like a very unhealthy obsession.

"I knew you wouldn't come easy, but I had to try, try and have you for myself. Before you became defiled by those Victor collectors in the Capitol," Darius whispered with grave intonations.

It was like there was ice running through Peeta's veins. Each time Darius spoke it sent a cold spike of fear throughout his system. Peeta racked his brain to find a way out of this situation. He could just go along with it, but no one knew he was here. How would they ever find him?

"Come, Peeta. I've prepared a nice dinner."

He stepped to the side of the doorframe and motioned with his wrist, the one holding the gun, for Peeta to head through it and down the hall towards his dinning room. Peeta's feet felt heavy and slow like he was wading through molasses as he moved towards the hallway. When he passed by Darius he averted his eyes, not wanting him to see the fear behind them, but he couldn't stop himself from hearing the large intake of breath Darius made, inhaling as much of Peeta's scent as he could get. Peeta's stomach knotted in sickening discomfort. He glanced towards the door, his salvation, just behind Darius.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't even think about it," Darius warned as he pushed the tip of his gun into Peeta's back and propelled him forward.

Peeta turned into the dinning room and found a hot meal waiting on the scratched wood surface of the rectangular table. He had prepared a whole chicken and it made Peeta want to gag. What a willful waste of food in a district full of starving children. Then his eyes caught site of one of the chairs where a piece of rope lay coiled and ready to incapacitate Peeta. He froze in his spot as he tried desperately to form a plan for escape. His eyes darted from the latched windows to the other doorway leading to the kitchen and then all over the surface of the cracked dining table.

"Move, that chair, now."

Darius shoved at Peeta's back again, but this time he refused to move. Darius reached with stubby fingers and gripped Peeta's shoulder roughly, forcing him towards the chair in a jolting motion.

"I do like it when they fight back. That's the reason I chose you; fell for you. For your fight in the games…" He trailed off as if reminiscing about the good old days and Peeta shuddered.

Darius forced him down into the seat, hands pawing at him with too much pleasure. Then he started looping the rope around the base of the chair and up over Peeta's lap. Peeta's pulse began to skyrocket. This was his last chance to escape otherwise he'd be bound to this chair for who knows how long or what Darius would do to him in it. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as the anxiety built.

Unexpectedly Peeta dove into action, moving on pure adrenaline and flash memory of what it was like to fight for his life in the arena. His hand shot out towards the table and grabbed the nearest item he could get his hands on and then in a singular and swift movement, brought the glass plate down on Darius' head, which was bent down by his side. The glass crashed against his head with a harsh thud and cracked in two from the impact. Darius cried out in surprise and pain as he fell to the ground, a trail of blood working it's way down the side of his temple.

Peeta struggled against the rope until his body slipped free. Then he knocked the chair and table over as a diversion and way to put obstacles between Darius and himself. But Darius was fast and up on his feet in seconds, leaping over the fallen furniture and chasing Peeta down the hallway.

"STOP!" He shouted.

But Peeta refused to stop moving. He tore down the hallway in a frenzied run. The door was only a few more feet away, where freedom awaited him and then soon he would be free of the terror and captivity that Darius threatened. His hand reached the door handle and wrapped around it, pulling it open, the warm air being sucked out into the cold howling wind outside as—

CRACK.

An ear splitting shot rang out as a searing hot pain pierced Peeta's right side. He stumbled and fell down the few steps leading up to the front door. He landed hard against the frozen dirt road. Peeta cried out in pain and for help, but the foul wind just carried it away to the mountains in the distance, never to be answered.

Peeta panted with harsh breaths as he rolled onto his back and clamped a hand to the rights side of his stomach. He clenched his teeth and a ragged scream tore from his throat. Hot blood gushed from the bullet whole in his lower stomach, warming his hands against the frosty night air.

"Look what you made me do!" Darius howled in frustration.

He stood at the entrance to his door watching Peeta with a pained expression, like he had just shot himself in the foot. Peeta tried to use his left arm to scoot him backwards and away from his attacker, but he was only able to manage to pull himself a foot or so across the road, leaving a smeared trail of his own blood as Darius took deliberate and slow steps down the stairs towards Peeta.

"Let's get you back inside and cleaned up. I promise I'll make it all better, sweet, sweet Peeta," Darius cooed like he was talking to something that was utterly precious to him.

"You're mad!" Peeta yelled at Darius, causing him to flinch.

Darius's nostrils flared and his beard lifted up with his mouth in an offended sneer, the harsh lines of his face thrown into stark shadows by the light from his house, blood still trickling down the side of his face. He stalked closer to Peeta and then leaned down until his hot and polluted breath washed over Peeta, who danced dizzyingly in his mind from the loss of blood.

"The only thing mad is how much I care for you."

Darius then reached out and clamped down with crushing fingertips on Peeta's shoulder to pull him up. Peeta squawked meekly as he was ripped up to his unstable feet, but he accepted the opportunity given to him by Darius. Now that he was on his feet he slammed his shoulder into Darius and kicked the feet out from under him. Darius, taken by surprise, fell back on his ass, hands flailing as he tried to keep hold of Peeta, but failed.

Peeta didn't waste a second as he started running with a difficult limp down the street towards escape. The blood was now sluggishly leaking down his body, the thick warm liquid soaking everything. Peeta's right hand slipped against the copious amount of it to keep the pressure. He heard Darius hissing invectives as he quickly returned to his feet and chased after Peeta down the barren street.

Peeta didn't know where to go. Peacekeeper homes lined the street, but he wasn't sure if he could trust them, they liked to protect each other. So instead he continued pushing his body towards the Seam. He hoped he could lose Darius in the overpopulated and tightly packed shacks.

"Peeta!" Darius shouted after him and it sounded like he was gaining, which wasn't a surprise in Peeta's condition.

The road slanted downwards towards a ditch on the side as the separating line between the Peacekeepers village and the start of the Seam. Peeta stumbled and fell down into the trench. He bit his tongue trying to refrain from crying out in pain, but he managed to stay silent and low as he heard Darius ran past along the road with heavy footsteps.

It seemed like even though the sun had set it was still getting darker. It took Peeta a moment to realize he might be losing consciousness with the steep loss of blood. He had to act fast or he'd surely be dead, if he didn't bleed to death he'd surely freeze over night. He clawed at the embankment of the ditch and strained his muscles to drag himself up the other side. His wounded stomach scraped over the loose dirt and mixed with his wound, sticking to the blood in clumps. Desperation began to fill him up like water rising in a bathtub, close to spilling over. He needed to get to Mrs. Everdeen; she would be able to fix him.

Frantic eyes tried to fight off the darkness that encroached from the outer edges of his sight as he searched the outskirts of the Seam to get his bearings. The Everdeen's house would be further in and north. He could hear the frustrated sounds of Darius as he looped back around and Peeta knew he had to move now or be caught. He limped into the thick of the decrepit houses that occupied the Seam and disappeared from the line of sight of the road just as Darius ran by and swore in fury.

"FUCK! Peeta, why are you doing this to me?" Darius yelled with a lover's devastation.

Peeta continued towards his destination relieved to have finally lost his captor. His bones ached and his stomach throbbed as blood continued to flow out the hole at a sluggish pace. His mind gradually began weaving incomplete thoughts through his head as his eyesight grew topsy-turvy with fatigue from the blood loss. He was lost. Panic tried to breach his mind, but it was padlocked as the disorientation of his brain threw out all sane thoughts and feelings.

Pain flared on his nose and the dry bitter taste of dirt filled his mouth. He took stock that he was now laying on the ground. He couldn't remember falling, but he was pretty sure his nose had now joined in on the bleeding. Peeta's extremities began to go numb with the cold and he was loosing the will power to keep his right hand pressed against the wound. Then he noticed his right hand was up by his head, not even trying to staunch the flow of blood anymore.

Time drifted disjointedly. Blackness swarmed over his vision. _Was that a gasp? Is someone here?_ He tried to open his eyes, but they already were and staring at a dead turkey a few feet in front of him. That didn't make sense. His mind was toying with him.

"Peeta! Peeta, what happened?" A frantic and familiar voice begged as he was lifted upright.

"—Everdeen," Peeta managed to moan.

Then he was suddenly raised up in the air and carried in a jolting sprint by his savior. He tried to get his eyes to focus, but they continued to stay blurry and shrouded as if he was looking through a black veil. He was able to make out the dark blue eyes of his savior. A dark blue that often looked black when he was angry and Peeta knew that change in color all to often until today. It was Gale. He must have returned from hunting. With the knowledge that he was safe Peeta allowed himself to be pulled under into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

"AHHHH!" Peeta woke up screaming until his throat was hoarse and he couldn't breath.

The pain was unbearable and he tried to flail about, to attack whoever was digging around inside his wound touching and tugging against the torn muscle and flesh. But hands held him down from various directions as a woman shouted.

"Keep him steady, I can't do this if he is thrashing, I could injure him further."

Tears slipped from Peeta's eyes as he whimpered. He could see Primrose holding one of his legs and glittering tears in her eyes as well. Then Gale's face came into view as Peeta noticed Gale was holding down both of his arms.

"Look at me, just look at me. Try to match my breathing. It will be over soon. They don't have any morphling, but she has to clean out your wound and then stitch it up," Gale talked to Peeta in a calm and soothing manner.

"I think I've cleaned it as best I can. I'm going to start stitching now."

Gale held Peeta's eyes and imbued him with his own strength as Peeta bit down on his lip and tried to ignore the piercing pain and tug of flesh as Mrs. Everdeen threaded his wounded tissue together. Each time the needle punctured his raw and wounded skin he flinched and bile tickled the back of his throat as he felt the thread pulled through his skin and stitched together tightly.

"You're lucky the bullet went clean through, so once your stitched up you can rest. You'll need antibiotics to fight infection though," Mrs. Everdeen supplied in a clinically calm voice as she worked to stitch his skin closed. For such a fragile women she held it together better than most in a medical crisis.

Gale, now confident that Peeta wouldn't try and thrash about anymore, rested his hand on Peeta's chest, right over his heart and then held Peeta's hand to his heart. "Feel my heart beat? Try and calm yourself to match it."

Peeta felt the steady pulse of Gale's heart and he took deep shuddering breaths through his nose and out his mouth as he tried to reign in his riotous heartbeat. The feel of Gale's heart pumping slow and steady against Peeta's limp hand helped guide his breaths and blanket him in comfort from the pain his body was experiencing.

Slowly and surely his heartbeat fell within a normal range, the stabbing of the needle and the sickly feeling of his flesh being tugged subsided as Mrs. Everdeen finished her stitching, and then Peeta's eyes started to drift shut, but his hand was still placed against Gale's heart. Gale tried to place it back down by Peeta's side when his eyes whipped open and he whimpered pitifully.

"N-no, don't leave me," Peeta croaked and then gripped Gale's hand with tensed muscles.

Peeta could hear Mrs. Everdeen telling Prim to let Peeta get his rest and shooing her to bed as she had school in the morning. Gale rubbed his rough and calloused thumb across Peeta's pulse-point on his hand until his grip relaxed again.

Then he asked in an edgy whisper, "Who did this to you, Peeta?"

Peeta lolled his head to the side with droopy and tired eyes. He stared at Gale for a moment before he could piece it together and then tell him.

"It was Darius… He became… obsessed. Tried to take me… hostage—"

Gale muttered a foul cry, his hand going tense this time and that was the last Peeta could remember as he slipped back into oblivion.

Peeta wasn't sure how much time had passed, but surely a few days. The first day after the gunshot he didn't remember much, but that it was groggy and painful and he popped a stitch that Mrs. Everdeen had to suture back up, which was just as terrible an experience the second time with no anesthesia. After that they didn't want to risk moving him to his home so they set him up in Prim's bed and she slept with her mom, which she probably did anyways since Katniss had died. His dad may have visited that first day too, but everything was so foggy and laced with a dull throb of pain it was hard to remember. He did recall how Gale came by each night after work in the mines to check on him. He told him how he went to Cray, the head Peacekeeper, and repeated to him what happened with Darius, who tried to deny it, but they found all the pictures of Peeta in his house and one of his bullets outside—all Peacekeeper ammunition is marked and tracked—so it was clear what had happened. Apparently after that Darius had been shipped off to the Capitol to be dealt with.

By the third night Peeta was feeling much better, but still exhausted and woozy, when Gale came by to check on him again. Prim was feeding him a bowl of soup her mom had just cooked up and Peeta was flying high from the Morphling that Haymitch had managed to find in the basement of his house. Peeta giggled relentlessly when Gale took the soup from Prim and tried to help feed him.

"Come on now, stop laughing and eat," Gale said with exasperation, but a hint of amusement in his crinkled eyes.

"Make choo-choo sounds, ha-ha," Peeta giggled like a child again and Gale just shook his head while Prim joined in on laughing.

Soon after eating Peeta found his hand clasped around Gale's dirtied coalminer one and he whispered, "Thank you, Gale."

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

Peeta wanted to respond but it was too late as he drifted off into a drugged and painless sleep filled with fantastic dreams. His favorite one was when he decided to jump into the air and fly out and away from District 12. He didn't stop flying until he arrived at District 2 and landed in front of Cato's house. He was antsy and giddy about the prospect of finally seeing his lover again. He ran towards the door and pounded against it repeatedly until he heard the latch being undone and the door opened inwards. Right before Cato's face was revealed on the other side he slipped from his dream and into the world of the living.

Birds could be heard, muffled through the walls, chirping their morning songs. Peeta's eyelids lit up in a pink fleshy color from the sun coming through the windows, but he wasn't ready to truly wake up just yet. He was happy to embrace the intangible space between waking and sleep. The space where all his feelings and faculties had yet to return to him and his mind drifted lazily through time and space with out consciously thinking. The pain had yet to set in again and his mind had yet to start gnawing at him with its unremitting memories: one's of blood and guts; guns and hammers; predatory smiles and eyes.

Slowly, but surely, his sense of being came back to life. It was almost a spiritual experience as he returned to his body, feeling the nerve-endings begin firing as awareness and a sense of his body's general position in the external world was restored. It was also when he realized he was still holding someone's hand. He remembered falling asleep holding Gale's hand now, but he should have been off to the mine's already. No one should be here truthfully. Prim should be at school and Mrs. Everdeen out doing house calls.

Peeta gave an experimental squeeze to the hand he was holding as he worked on opening his eyes and adjusting them to the light. That morphling really packed a punch and knocked him into a whole other world. _No wonder people got so addicted to it_, he thought.

The hand gave a squeeze back and Peeta's heart stuttered against the pacemaker's will. If his mind was not so foggy from the morphling he might have noticed sooner. His body could never forget. They were molded to fit together. His blood began to race and a strong heat crept up his neck. He thought he might be on the verge of a panic attack as his breathing also steadily increased.

"Peeta?" A voice spoke, deep and worried.

Finally he managed to get his eyes open, but they were paralyzed with fear. He was afraid to look over to see the face connected to the hand he held. He panted with a hyperactive breath. Was it real? Was he only imagining it? What if it was the morphling? He couldn't handle it, not after the past few days. But then that voice, the voice he had only heard in his dreams and over grainy telephone lines at scheduled times revealed the truth.

"Babe, it's okay."

He pointed his eyes up towards the ceiling and released a quivering breath. A tear slipped out and ran at an angle down his cheeks where two soft and large fingers swiped it away. Fingers he knew intimately. Peeta leaned into them, closed his eyes and then opened them, finally looking at the man next to his bed. His heart was on the brink of exploding with the love that had been contained, unable to go anywhere during their hellish exile.

"I'm here now and it's all going to be okay," Cato spoke in a sure and even tone.

Peeta was afraid this day would never come and he realized, no matter how much he tried to hold on to and remember his face, he could never get it right. The full glory of it was too much for his memory to contain: Cato's chocolate eyes and slender nose, strong jaw line and smooth unblemished skin. His chest felt heavy with the weight and emotion of the reunion, because it was real. Not dreamed or fantasized about. It was here and now, this moment, when Peeta was waking from a drugged sleep like Snow White to find his prince Charming waiting at his bed side. All that was left to complete the fairytale reunion was a kiss.

He couldn't find the words to speak, but his hand broke free of Cato's and fingered up his forearm, tickling the hairs they passed as they reached his tensed bicep and pulled him down. The concern in Cato's eyes disappeared with Peeta's intentions becoming evident and a smile hooked itself at the corners of his mouth as he lowered his head and connected their lips in a kiss of paradoxes; of fire and ice, of healing and suffering, of restraint and zeal, of joy and sadness.

Cato's tongue pushed through Peeta's moistened lips and reclaimed the mouth that was his. Cato swept along Peeta's teeth, traced his gum line and massaged his tongue, reacquainting himself with what had been denied to him for so long. Peeta hummed in the back of his throat with satisfaction and his body thrilled with the emotional release. The feel of Cato's lips on his was real, the heat from his skin and the staccato of his grunts were all Cato, impossible to be recreated in such vivid detail.

"C-Cato," Peeta stuttered out in a sob as he broke the searing kiss.

"Yes, babe. I'm here. It's real, it's real."

Cato rubbed his hands up and down Peeta's shoulders in a soothing manner, but Peeta could tell also because he didn't want to let go of him. Both afraid that if they by chance let go, even for a moment, the Capitol would only tear them apart again.

"I—I don't understand, how'd you get here?" Peeta asked with a grunt as he tried to get up into a sitting position.

"Careful," Cato warned as he pushed Peeta's hands away and helped lift him upright so he didn't have to strain anything. Then he answered, "The Victory Tour starts today, Peeta. Haymitch and Lyme tried to get me here earlier, but the Capitol wouldn't have it. They were able to make it so I got here in the morning instead of evening. They want to keep our time in District 12 limited for some reason."

Peeta had forgotten how close it was to the Victory Tours starting before Darius had attacked him, but either way everything was better now. The world could resume spinning again because Peeta was back with Cato. He took a moment to take stock of Cato. Almost everything seemed the same, his blonde hair styled with little care, his broad shoulders and chest; Peeta worked his hands over every inch he could touch, wishing to never forget what Cato felt like, solid and real in his grasp. The only difference was behind his eyes; there was sadness there, damage. Peeta knew the look all too well. He had the same look hidden behind his eyes, the memory of the Games having forever changed them and the forced separation inducing a profound melancholy.

"I guess that means my prep team is probably here. They're going to freak when they see the wound," Peeta sighed at the thought of his prep teams probable outlandish reaction to his stitched abdomen.

Cato visibly bristled at the mention of Peeta's wound and he could hear his teeth grinding as Cato growled.

"If that cretin hadn't been shipped off to the Capitol I'd find him and skin him alive for what he did. My god, to think I could have—have lost you and I wouldn't even have known it until the tour started!"

Peeta shushed him as he cupped Cato's face in his hands and forced him to hold eye contact.

"I'm fine. The stitches can come out in a few days and once we're at the Capitol Effie will have one of their doctors do a full check up on me, pacemaker, gun wound, all of it. So there's no reason to get worked up, okay?"

Peeta inclined his head questioningly until Cato unclenched his jaw and replied with a big gust of air.

"Okay…"

"Good, now help me up. I bet the prep team is waiting at my house. I'm tired of laying in this bed."

Cato obliged and didn't mention his wound again. Peeta had missed how they worked together so well. The implicit trust they placed in each other and the understanding they could come to fast and with out question. Almost six months had passed since the Hunger Games had ended and they had been together. It was insane to think that hey had only been together for some three odd weeks and yet they could slip back into their comfortable relationship like no time had passed at all.

As Cato helped Peeta hobble down the dirtied streets of the Seam towards Victors Village Peeta turned towards his boyfriend with a beaming smile.

"I love you."

A massive grin spread across Cato's face. He leaned in to kiss Peeta's temple and whisper against his ear with a warm and tingling breath that washed over Peeta's body down to his toes.

"And I love you."

Anyone they passed along the street basically came to a standstill to stare at the two Victors, together at last.

"This is surreal. I never got this much attention in District 2." Cato shook his head and laughed.

"Well you do win the games most of the time. Haymitch is the only other living winner from 12, so I'm kind of a big deal."

Cato barked with laughter at that and rested his head atop Peeta's dirty blonde locks, inhaling deeply. Even though Peeta had been shot and put through a hell filled three days things couldn't have been better now. His stomach purred with contentment and his mind floated at ease in his head, no longer beating down the doors with a battering ram trying to break his sanity with it's graphic memories and pain. Together they could keep their demons at bay.

An audible breath escaped Cato's lips as they left the Seam and entered the nicer market area of the District, which was still nothing much to boast about.

"The amount of poverty here, it—it's unbelievable. District 2 has nothing near comparable to this…" He trailed off as he stretched his neck to look back at the shacks they had left behind.

"I know. You see what a miserable life it is to grow up here? Why I might want to escape? There's not much happiness to be found."

Cato hugged Peeta closer to his body and he wished they could just meld together, so they would never have to be divided again. When they turned onto Victory Row Peeta noticed two armed Peacekeepers standing at attention by his front door. He had no clue what that was about, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut. Cato looked at him with perplexed eyes. Peeta just shook his head signaling for him to remain silent.

When they approached the front door the two guards stepped forwards and held out a hand to halt them.

"This is my house," Peeta stated, not amused.

"Just you will be allowed in. He'll have to wait out here," One guard said with a jut of his thumb towards Cato.

"I'm not—"

"—Stay here," Peeta interrupted Cato's protest. "I'll be fine. _Don't_ make trouble."

Peeta then stepped away from Cato on unsteady feet and paused to take a deep breath before pressing forward on his own. Each time he brought down his right foot the wound throbbed painfully, but it was manageable and he could at least continue walking on his own.

When entering his house his nostrils flared at the abnormal scent they caught. He had smelled it once before, but not this powerful. It was when he was at the Capitol Circle where Cato and he were crowned winners of the games. It was an indecent smell, a mixture of blood and sickly sweet roses. He turned to his left and saw the living room was empty and then he turned to his right and saw a terrifying figure standing in his art studio studying the portrait of Cato.

"You have quite a gift, Mr. Mellark. It's a talent I'm sure that will get you far in the Capitol, I may just have to commission you to paint something for my palace."

President Snow then turned from the portrait to face Peeta with a sinister smile planted on his cushiony cheeks. His lips were blood red and his hair shock white and slicked back.

"Can I help you with something, President?" Peeta managed to ask.

The smile grew bigger.

"Yes, actually. You've started quite a fire, Peeta—do you mind if I call you, Peeta?" He paused to ask, but then kept going with out waiting for a response, confident in knowing he needn't ask in the first place. He could do as he pleases. "Not surprising, though, for the boy on _fire_," He rolled the last word around on his tongue like it gave him a foul taste. Then he motioned to one of Peeta's chairs as if it were his. "Please, have a seat. I know you must be in pain."

Peeta's eyes narrowed as he analyzed President Snow. Of course he knew of his injury. He made sure to clench his teeth and suffer through the pain with out limping as he walked to take a seat. He would not show weakness in the President's company. Snow's eyes glinted with a hint of sadism as he took a seat across from Peeta.

"I don't understand, a fire?" Peeta finally broached the topic for this unusual visit. President Snow never left the Capitol.

"You're a smart boy, Peeta. Let's not have any pretenses. I'm confident you knew what you were doing in those games. Some may be fooled into thinking you didn't know how rebellious your actions looked, but I'm not just anyone. You have lit the fuse to something that could very well burn this nation to the ground and I want you to help put it out before it's too late. Before lives are lost."

President Snow folded his fingers in his lap carefully and let the threat linger in the air. I refrained from looking at his cold, ice blue eyes and instead focused on the insulting tangerine colored handkerchief situated in the breast pocket of his cream colored suit.

"Haven't lives already been lost?" I asked. It was a dangerous question, but I wanted him to know they drew blood first. He was obviously worried of the power I wielded or he wouldn't have come personally to visit me.

'Hmm' was the only response he gave, before dangling the carrot.

"Peeta, if you can prove to me you have no ulterior motive, if you can temper the inflamed spirits of the districts, you may live in two with Cato…" He paused to let his words sink in.

Peeta kept a placid expression on his face, but internally his heart beat against his ribcage and his stomach did back flips in hope.

"… And because we have means of dealing with you if you refuse. Cato has family, a family survives Katniss, and you're just starting to mend fences with your father, are you not? It would be terrible if something were to happen just as things got better. Additionally, more people than just Darius are unstable, obsessive and can be tipped with the slightest of hand in your direction."

Peeta's throat went dry. There was no end to the Capitol's cruelty, to what they were willing to do. Snow was practically telling Peeta in no uncertain terms he set a psychotic stalker on him. He probably did it just as a test, not even meaning to hurt Peeta nor caring if he did, but just to see what methods he could use to rattle Peeta. Probably as a show of power too, to demonstrate to Peeta he not only had control over the Districts, but intimate control over its people.

"Okay."

"Come again?" Snow leaned forward, licking his cherry red lips.

"Okay, I'll try and stop the _fire_," Peeta replied monotone.

A wicked grin spread back across President Snow's face as he pushed up from his chair.

"Perfect," He purred. "Well good day to you, Peeta Mellark. I do hope you cherish your time together with Cato and think hard on what it could mean to fail in this endeavor…" Snow warned with a deep vibrato that saturated Peeta to his bones.

He gave Peeta one last parting glance and then swept from the room in an authoritative grandeur leaving in his wake the sickly scent of blood and roses.

**Reviews are love and a new chapter is coming soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all!**

**Burning Down is back and better than ever! I know it's been forever (and then some) and I apologize for the disappearing act on this story, but I just couldn't juggle writing two fics and a job (and maybe I lost a little of my motivation). But now that the other one is done I have re-dedicated myself to this story and my passion for it has been reignited! I've already got the next five chapters written and everything has been completely plotted out to the very end. I'm very excited to bring the rest of this story to you now that I have an end game ready. There are lots of twists and turns in store for you so I hope you all are ready, there's a long, rough slog ahead. I'm really going to try and post something every week, but it will really depend on my schedule, but I will be sure to tell you if its going to be more than a week. I do expect to go out of town a few times next month so that will probably interrupt the regularity of my posts, but otherwise there's not stopping me now!**

**Some of you may have noticed that I did a little editing to the first five chapters and changed the structure of the story. It is now broken down into three parts. As I begin posting the rest of these chapters you will see that the story drastically veers from the book Catching Fire that it was originally based on, I don't want to tell you where I'm going because that's part of the surprise, but the ending of Burning Down will be the end of the series, there's not going to be a third one based on Mockingjay (take that to mean as you will.) **

**Oh, and one more thing, I just want to give a shout out to MaTM97 for being super awesome and listening to my crazed rants and helping with the editing of this story. He's great.**

**Okay, so I've done enough talking and I'm sure you're anxious to get back to our story. If you're still with me please make sure to leave a little review so I know people are still out there and want me to continue! Okay, enjoy!**

Ch. 6- Fire Rising

"I just don't know how you could let yourself be fooled by such a man! You're a Victor now, one must be smart and diplomatic about these things at all times," Effie lectured Peeta as his prep team made quick work converting the bathroom into an on-the-fly remake center. A thick, pungent smelling paste was already being applied to the skin of his legs. It tingled with the light tickle of carbonated bubbles against the pores of his skin.

Effie's hair was now in viciously teased curls the color of turquoise with silver highlights that matched the silver feathered lashes she wore. Her vivacious attitude was ripe as ever as she near lost her mind over the discovery that a peacekeeper had shot and wounded her star Victor.

"A Victor does not just go off to someone's house with out an escort! Especially not in _Twelve_," she hissed the word like it should be explanation enough. Her perceptions of the fringe districts, having been molded from the safety and privilege of the Capitol, were filled with stereotypes and misconceptions. If one were to believe Effie, they would think District 12 was run amok with criminals and deviants.

Peeta was forced to bite his tongue from revealing the truth of the matter. That it wasn't just some District 12 loon, but a pawn of President Snow's, thrown his way with full intent of injury. Thankfully, Portia decided to make her appearance and slip into the vastly overcrowded bathroom to save Peeta.

"Effie, why don't you help me inventory Peeta's outfits for the tour? It would be of great help to me and I could use your opinion on a few things."

She winked at Peeta. God, he loved her. Of all the people to descend upon his home for the start of the Victory Tour, he was most glad to see Portia—besides Cato, of course.

"Oh, why yes of course! This is the biggest tour ever put on by the Capitol, what with two Victors, we can't have anything be amiss!" She gushed, clamping her bedazzled fingers on Portia's wrist and guiding her out like it was her idea all along.

It wasn't that hard to figure out how to pull Effie's strings. She was pretty simple, living to be the center of attention and compliments. If one made her feel even the slightest bit useful or needed she was putty in their hands.

Peeta laughed as he settled back into the recliner chair and resigned himself to let the prep team move in and do what they would with his body.

* * *

The sun set earlier in this District. It was bewildering to Cato to think that it was still mid-afternoon back home and yet here the sun was already working to fall behind the western mountains, leaving behind a chill in the air that was unfamiliar to him. Back at home the snow had melted with the beginning of March, giving way to the tentative warmth of springtime.

Cato paced the living room, unable to settle after the shock of seeing President Snow leave Peeta's home. Before he could go in to find out what that was all about, the insanity that was Effie Trinket and his prep team descended upon the house to style Peeta. Effie was just as outlandish as he remembered. His handler had a distinct Capitol style like most, but his personality was as bland as white rice whereas Effie demanded your attention for good or bad. He wasn't sure which yet.

Having already gone through all his prep on the train ride here, Cato was left with nothing to do while Peeta was made over. The discovery that Peeta had been injured was a shock he still hadn't gotten over—his blood still quick to boil at the thought of it. It brought back all the fear and helplessness he had felt when Peeta ate the nightlock like it was yesterday and worst of all he didn't find out about it until he was on the train.

Cato found his feet had carried him to a small room that might have been a study, but was converted into the art studio Peeta had mentioned. He wandered about the small room, taking in the few paintings left scattered about the room. It was surprising there were so few, Cato had been under the impression he had been painting non-stop from the conversations they'd had about his art. Yet now that he was here, there weren't too many finished canvasses to look at, except one. Cato's stomach knotted at the sight of the large portrait leaning against the wall in the corner. It was unmistakably a painting of Cato, painstakingly crafted in his likeness, but imbued with a terrible sense of loss. It made Cato's heart ache with the beauty and pain captured in the portrait.

The front door clicked open and a young girl with strikingly familiar hair and olive eyes raced inside. She did a quick survey of the house before her probing eyes settled upon Cato. They lit up with recognition and she suddenly launched forward enveloping Cato in a furious hug.

"Oh I can't believe you're finally here! Peeta's been terribly depressed without you! And you're even better looking in person!" She gushed, stepping back to look up at him as Cato stood about a foot taller than her at least.

"Well hey there, you must be Primrose," Cato surmised.

"I am!" Prim blushed with a suddenly bashful smile. Then she swiveled on her heel and skipped back to the entryway to grab the hand of another man who had entered without Cato noticing.

She tugged the man into the studio with much exuberance. He could tell why Peeta cared for her so much; it was hard not to be taken with her. She had her sister's fire, but with a more outgoing temperament. But Cato was currently more interested by the newest arrival. Who was this man?

Cato gave the guy a once over, taking in his matching height, the large width of his shoulders and lithe athletic body. He was wholesomely attractive. He still held the smudges of coal on his fingertips despite the effort it looked like he took to clean up, leaving an aura of gruff masculinity that bristled Cato. He noticed the man was staring back with an equally analytical eye.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Prim prodded the man in the side, which seemed to break the tension. He moved forward to shake Cato's hand with an unwavering confidence.

"Gale, s'good to finally meet you," Gale said huskily.

"I wish I could say the same, but I'm sorry to say I haven't heard much about you, Gale," Cato replied, pulling his hand back to his side.

"That'd be my fault. I was kind of an asshole—well, not kind of—but Peeta and I worked out the misunderstanding recently. We're good now."

He seemed genuine enough to Cato.

"About time, too!" Prim cut in with a roll of her eyes. Cato could see the spark of Katniss in the gesture and smiled.

Gale cracked the beginnings of smile too and slung an arm around Prim's side, ruffling her hair and pulling her tight against him. She just sighed, obviously discontent with the child-like treatment.

Before Cato could think of a reply, there was a commotion in the hallway as Peeta's entourage headed down the stairs. Cato rushed into the hallway so as to no longer be deprived of his boyfriend's presence when both Haymitch and Lyme entered the doorway too. Gale and Primrose followed close behind.

"My, my these Victor homes are awfully small!" Effie said with a mouthful of distaste. If only she had seen the shacks in the Seam, where Cato found Peeta earlier, she might not be so tactless. "Out, out! Everyone!" She shooed everyone with her hands. "It's time we headed to the Mayor's house anyways."

* * *

"I thought Gale hated you?"

Peeta looked up from studying the marble floor behind the entry doors to the Justice building startled from his thoughts. They were waiting just inside the double steel doors before the Mayor called them out for the Victory Tour to finally start. There would be speeches, unnecessary festivities, and a banquet with the Mayor; so it was all terribly off-putting for Peeta as he knew he would have to play along, bask in the glory of it all and pretend not an ounce of rebelliousness flowed within his veins.

President Snow's words still hung heavy in his head. The blatant threats and promise of a happily ever after with Cato if he could just quell the rising spirits of the districts. He still hadn't told the others, and he wasn't sure if he should. Cato never acted with the intent of defiance like Peeta, so if he just let him continue playing the loving boyfriend as he already were, it might seem more genuine.

"Peeta?" Cato nudged him in the shoulder.

"Sorry, just got lost in thought. What?"

"Gale. I thought you two hated each other?"

"Oh, yeah we worked that out. He was hurting over Katniss's death and I was an easy outlet." Peeta explained with disinterest. He was filled to the brim with so many worries there wasn't room to add anymore at the moment.

"Sounds like a good guy," Cato grumbled, straightening and looking forward as the crowd could be heard cheering on the other side.

Peacekeepers flanked them on either side to escort them onto the stage when the Mayor introduced them. He could be heard on the sound system now, playing up the Capitol's 'benevolence'.

"He is," Peeta replied in earnest, looking over Cato's face. "He saved my life."

The doors were flung open by two Peacekeepers and the setting sun burst through in a blinding brilliance of rays, its final parting gift before it settled behind the mountains for the night.

The bug-like pods of two camera people were trained on them as they walked on the stage. Peeta couldn't believe he forgot what it was like to be on national television, the nerves that set off along his skin like a tickle of feathers.

"…Cato Ryves of District 2, and our very own Peeta Mellark of District 12!" The Mayor boomed into the microphone as the victorious couple stepped forward to claim their spotlight.

It was a humbling experience to see the whole of District Twelve spread out before Peeta—for Peeta. They quietly rooted for him as if he were their champion and it was like a small knife gouged into his heart, knowing what he meant to some and the promise he had made to Snow not to stand up for them. Cato's hand slipped into his and kept him steady. His thumb rested against the pulse-point on Cato's wrist, and his pacemaker worked his heart in tune with Cato's. They were finally reunited. That was what mattered. He just had to keep reminding himself of it.

While the Mayor prattled on about how amazing they are and how wonderful the Capitol was for showering them with its good graces Peeta took in those in the crowd. He saw many faces he recognized. Some had frequented the bakery when he worked there, others he knew from school, and even more that had sought him out since his return to congratulate or thank. Near the front Peeta spotted Gale with the rest of his family and the Everdeens. Peeta was surprised to see the Mayor's daughter Madge also standing next to him. She seemed awfully close to him. He hadn't realized they knew each other.

Cato's hand fell from his as he stepped to the microphone to begin his speech. Peeta watched his shoulders roll, ironing out the kinks of his muscled back before he addressed the crowd. Peeta anxiously awaited the speech, wondering what he would say and how he would address the crowd.

"I never knew what it really meant to be a volunteer in these Games until I met Peeta," Cato began. His voice was steady and unwavering in its confidence. Peeta greatly envied the masks he could slip on before a crowd, if he could only do the same then maybe they wouldn't be in this mess with the Capitol.

"District Two often has volunteers step forward, like myself, but Peeta was different. He taught me of the selflessness rooted in the act, of the courage it takes. How it means something more than riches and glory. And so I want to say thank you, to the people of District Twelve, for giving the country and I such a tribute, for giving us two fighter spirits in Katniss and Peeta. He changed me for the better and every day I am moved by his compassion and spirit. It's the spirit of Twelve that I saw in Katniss, and I see it alive and well in him, and all of you. Thank you."

Peeta was stunned. The crowd might have been too, as there was a delay between the end of his speech and then the abrupt outburst in applause. Peeta couldn't remember such a reaction from his district before at any Victory Tour.

Peeta smiled warmly at Cato as he returned to his side and gave his hand a quick squeeze. He hoped it told Cato everything he couldn't in the moment; how much those words meant to him.

Then just as quickly it was time for Peeta's speech and his throat went dry. He didn't know what he would say or how he could follow Cato. His wound gave a painful throb as he stepped toward the microphone and reminded him of the Capitol's oppression—along with Snow's threats. What should he say? What did they expect of him? It was too much.

"I want to thank the Capitol for—" Peeta broke off to clear his throat. "—For making this possible. And thank you all for your support and love during the games…" Peeta was prepared to go generic; to temper the flames sparking to life from Cato's speech. But then his eyes settled upon Riece Wilshurn—the young boy he had volunteered in place of—and his resolve broke before the iron fist of defiance that rose in his chest with a fiery spirit he couldn't control. "I know your hearts broke just as much as mine did when Katniss was lost to us in the Games. Your bread saved me—us." Peeta turned to motion back at Cato who was smiling brilliantly. "Katniss's death was not in vain, nor was it meaningless. None of this was. We changed the game. I live on for her now and all of you. Hope lives on even in the harshest of settings. You gave me hope. You gave me my fuel. Thank you for your fire….and thank you for your bread."

As soon as he finished, Peeta knew he had royally fucked up. He just completely disregarded everything Snow had asked of him and he had even gone against his own promise not to put them in anymore danger after the Hunger Games. But then he remembered what Katniss gave her life for, an idea represented in Peeta. Which was right? Peeta couldn't begin to fathom, but his gut seemed to have made a clear decision and now the consequences were his to own.

The crowd did not cheer for Peeta like they did Cato; instead they raised the three-finger salute in silent respect. Peeta backed away from the stage, unsure what to do next or how to handle their display. He noticed even Prim and Gale with their hands defiantly raised, Madge and Mrs. Everdeen, Mrs. Hawthorne and her children.

Then a whistle sounded out from the crowd. It was a hauntingly familiar tune like the whisper of a ghost reaching from beyond the grave to remind them of its truth. It was the melody of the Hanging Tree and Peeta's eyes immediately honed in on the instigator who whistled it. It was young Riece.

The tune grew into a chorus of whistles as more joined, echoing across the town square. Peeta's stomach dropped out from under him and a hand slapped against his shoulder tugging him backwards, away from the stage. Fear flooded his system like ice as Peacekeepers flooded the stage like a swarm of sterile insects and everyone was scuttled from the stage. Peeta couldn't see Cato. He must have already been taken back inside. The crowd surged forward and a scream pierced the night sky begging for mercy. It lashed at Peeta like a lance to the gut. A growing sense of urgency and dread descended on the assembly. Angry shouts and cries began to join in as the situation deteriorated quickly. The carefully architected atmosphere of celebration and joy crumbled like the thin pastry crust it was built upon.

The camera crew was gone, done recording. They had probably stopped a long time before when Peeta got too defiant in his speech.

Peeta struggled against the Peacekeeper shoving him back. He had to see what was happening. Were Prim and Gale okay? Was his family here? He dug his heels against the wood of the stage, trying to stall the Peacekeeper and locate his friends. The Peacekeeper shouted at him, but it was unintelligible as the sounds around him grew deafening. Men and women were shouting in anger and fear. A woman was sobbing. A line of Peacekeepers moved forward and pushed back against the crowd.

An elbow crushed into Peeta's stomach and he doubled over in pain, breath expelled from his lungs. Tears beaded at the corner of his eyes as the Peacekeeper dragged him back into the Justice Building now that there was no resistance. The last thing he saw was a Peacekeeper un-holstering his gun as another climbed on stage holding a kicking and screaming child. It was Riece. His face was streaked with tears and red with exertion. All the blood drained from Peeta's face as he struggled to gather air in his lungs.

Then the doors slammed closed, cutting his line of sight to Riece. A few beats went by in silence as everyone in the Justice building collected themselves, stunned by the turn of events. Then a single shot rang out and a roar erupted from the crowd.

"NO!" Peeta cried with a chest finally full of air.

"Peeta!" Cato shouted, fighting his way through the dense throng of people. "Peeta!"

Haymitch got to Peeta first. He clutched Peeta's shoulder with an ironclad grip like he was afraid Peeta would disappear before him.

"They're taking us to the train. Now. The rest of the festivities for Twelve have been canceled. Let's go and _don't _try anything foolish."

He then slung an arm around Peeta and guided him through the mass of frightened politicians towards Cato, who was being held back by Lyme. His handler and Effie were standing by looking properly befuddled. A contingent of Peacekeepers swarmed around them and quickly escorted them out the back of the Justice Building.

Once outside it was the difference between day and night. The last remnants of light had faded from the skyline and a sharp frost nipped at Peeta's cheeks as screams and violent outbursts polluted the night air. It wasn't right. It wasn't how his home should sound—depressed and subdued, yes, but panicked and pained, no. People ran by, terror clearly etched on their faces. Children cried as their parents sheltered them in their arms, scurrying to safety.

Light flickered in the distance behind them in abnormal movements and then the smell of smoke reached Peeta's nose and he knew it was fire. Something was burning in the town square. Another crack rang out, but this time Peeta wasn't sure if it was a gunshot or the crack of plywood warped by fire.

_What have I done?_ Peeta thought. Fear gnawed at his skin like an army of ticks, trying to burrow its way deep into his flesh where he might never be rid of it. The Peacekeepers moved at a brutal pace, trying to move the Victors and their entourage to the trains as quickly as possible before the situation deteriorated further. Haymitch tried to carry Peeta's weight as best as possible so that he could keep up. Cato slid up on his other side and together they worked to move Peeta with the now brisk jog to the train station two blocks away. Peeta thought he felt warm blood trickling down his side from the wound, but all he could focus on was the growing sounds of violence they were leaving behind.

Half an hour later and they were on the train already miles from District Twelve. It shot like a glimmering silver bullet through the untamed and uncharted wilderness that surrounded district 12. Peeta stared out a window wondering how there could be so much space and tranquil serenity around him and then the terror that he left behind. Could the two things possibly live in the same space, side-by-side? He felt sick just at the thought of what might be occurring in his home district, knowing he would never forgive himself if Riece was dead, if Prim or Gale or any of their family hurt. If his father was taken from him before he even had a chance to discover what it was like to be a son.

Cato sat across from him, eyeing him speculatively, but letting Peeta stew for the moment. Effie had sputtered ineffectually for the better part of ten minutes before Haymitch had kicked out of the train car. Portia tried to bring him food, but he didn't want any as the despair settled in him like a dropped anchor.

Then Snow's threats against his family and friends surfaced in his mind and he was reminded who was responsible for all of this: the Capitol. Peeta shot up from his seat, ignoring the twinge in his re-stitched stomach.

"Peeta? What's wrong?" Cato asked, rising to his feet in worry.

Peeta just shook his head and looked pointedly at Haymitch.

"Not here."

Haymitch seemed to understand as he stood and motioned for them to follow. They went out the back of the train car and gathered on the platform between the two rail cars outside. The wind howled by with the speed of the train and the velocity at which the ground passed beneath their feet was nauseating.

"What are we doing out here?" Cato asked with a slight green pallor to his face. He seemed nauseated by the sway of the platform and the blurring of the passing scenery.

"We should be free of eavesdroppers here," Haymitch said.

It was tough to hear over the sound of the wind, but that was the price they had to pay for safety from prying ears.

"Snow visited me earlier today."

"_What_?" Haymitch asked with a slight slur. He had already gotten into the train's stock of scotch. Cato already knew and waited patiently for the point.

"The gist is he threatened me. He threatened to harm all of you, anyone I care about if I don't help him temper the rebellious spirits of the districts, but I think I've already fucked that up. He said if I did well I could live in Two." Peeta couldn't bear to look at Cato when he said that, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on his face knowing that Peeta kept this from him and then destroyed their best chance at happiness before they even had a shot at it.

But Cato didn't seem upset. Instead he just asked, "So what do we do now?"

Haymitch contemplated in silence for a minute. Peeta held onto the railing for stability, but his bones jittered with the vibrations from the train—or maybe it was nerves.

"It seems there is only one option. Snow obviously knows of your true nature, that I have no doubt of, but we can try to convince everyone else that it's just love driving the two of you." Haymitch surveyed both of them intently. "So one of you will have to propose."

Peeta was not sure what he was ready for, but that was the last suggestion he saw coming. He didn't know how to respond. _I mean of course I want to marry Cato, one day…_ Peeta thought, but this was not the way he wanted it to go down.

"I'll do it."

"What, no let's talk about this first!" Peeta protested.

"What's there to talk about? They think we're leading an insurrection. Even those in my home district believe it. This is the only way to show that we're just two guys, in love and desperate to be together, not encouraging an uprising."

Peeta couldn't understand how he was so calm about this. There was nothing calm about this or any situation in the past week.

"I just…" Peeta saw both men looking at him. Watching and waiting, like he had the final say. When had he become the decisive voice? He wasn't ready to have decisions like this rest on his shoulders. But then he looked up at the night sky and the thousands of twinkling stars that danced above him. He found his serenity in the moment and the resolve to move forward. He would do what he had to, if it kept Cato and his friends safe.

"Okay. Let's do it. Let's get engaged."

**Leave a review to show your love. Or hate. Just be constructive :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to those who reviewed! It means a lot to know you're still with me and invested in this story! Here is the next Chapter. There is some stuff going on here that probably wont make sense until many chapters from now, but boy is it fun to lay the groundwork for things that will pay off later! Happy reading.**

Ch. 7- Pomp and Circumstance

"We can do this. I know it. You and I, we can do anything."

Cato was spooning Peeta in bed; he was the little spoon tonight, which he preferred. That way Cato couldn't see his face, couldn't read the doubt and conflict playing out across it like a war. He wasn't as confident as Cato, wasn't as sure of their capabilities or that he even wanted it anymore.

No, Peeta didn't doubt them—their relationship—just whether he would be content to get through the Victory Tour and live the rest of his life in District 2 anymore. The whole reason they were even here, alive and on this train, was because of Peeta's drive for change. He was over the downtrodden existence and suffering inflicted on him in District 12 and so he volunteered. Then things snowballed until he was more than just a tribute from the coal mining district. He was a symbol for change. The Capitol had created the mockingjay, just like Peeta, and, like the mockingjay, he in turn defied their control, becoming something completely unintended.

What was the right choice anymore? Peeta didn't know.

"We'll trick Snow. We'll trick the people of Panem too, I know it!" Cato growled in Peeta's ear and shook his body in his large arms.

"Maybe…" Peeta breathed out lightly. He didn't want to contradict him, but he also could not agree so vehemently as him.

"No maybe about it," Cato grunted out.

"Of course." Turning in his arms, Peeta faced Cato and planted a soft kiss to his lips. "Sleep now. We'll be in Four soon."

Peeta was beginning to worry for Cato. The longer they had been reunited the more Peeta had seen how frayed he's become during their separation. Peeta wondered what else had happened to him to make this change. He just wanted to give Cato some stability for the duration of the trip, so he played along and hid his misgivings.

The next morning the train arrived in the coastal district of 4. The whole trip so far had been filled with sceneries he had never seen nor imagined in his wildest dreams, but this had to top it all. Peeta had never seen the ocean before, and it knocked his mind for a loop. It was so huge! So blue, seemingly endless. And with the sound of the crashing waves joined with the smell of salt on the air made the scene exhilarating. There were white sand beaches and towering palm tress bent crooked from endless wind. He wondered what it must have been like to grow up in a district like this; it might almost be easy to forget the Capitol's oppression. Almost.

They had gone through so many districts already and Peeta had witnessed so much, beautiful scenery and human suffering in equal measure. But most of all he had seen the discontent simmering just beneath the surface in poverty-ridden districts like 11, 10 and 8. They had defiance in their eyes that lit up with hope when they saw him. A rebellion was building full steam ahead just like the train he rode, all because of him. If he didn't stop it, people would die. If he did stop it, people would still die and nothing would change.

The Mayor of 4, a burly woman, greeted them at the train depot to take them on a tour of the district. It was by far Peeta's favorite, even though he feared the water for his lack of swimming instruction. Huge vessels, ships—something he'd never seen before—lined the docks of the seemingly endless marina. A sharp rancid smell hit his nose near the vessels and he was told that was the smell of fish. Their biggest production in the district was fishing.

After that they were taken to the Justice Building for the speeches and feast with the Mayor. Since the fiasco at 12, they had all their speeches pre-written to be as mundane and pro-Capitol as possible. Yet every time Peeta stepped towards the microphone, he saw the show producers on the sidelines tense, ready to shut his mic off at a moment's notice of dissent in his speech. But that wasn't going to happen. He had learned his lesson. No more blood would be on his hands this trip. The faces of the crowd too often reminding him of the faces he left behind in District 12, fates unknown.

The hardest part of the tour had to be facing down the families of the tributes who had died. Even with the ones he hadn't killed, he still felt a gut-wrenching guilt when he stood before them on the stage. He was alive and they weren't, it wasn't fair to flaunt such things in their face. Rue's family was a particularly hard one to face down, knowing how close Katniss had grown to her. He wished he could have done something more for them, but in the end all he had been able to do was slip them a small satchel of coins he brought with him from home. Hopefully they understood the message he was trying to send.

Seeing the boy from 10's family who Peeta had killed was another hard one. But 4 was going to be the worst by far; both tributes had died because of him. Uphelia from the tracker-jacker's nest Katniss dropped on them so he could escape and Stasson, obviously.

Stasson's family stood off to the far corner of the stage and Peeta realized that Stasson's menacing demeanor was an inherited family trait. They all looked like bloodthirsty brutes and their laser-like stares of contempt pricked at Peeta's skin. One woman in particular stood out. She had a swarthy tan complexion and shoulders as broad as Stasson's littered with black markings—tattoos, Peeta later learned. Her short cropped hair was black and hung in thick angular sheets across her face. Only one eye was visible, but the beetle-black orb contained more malice than the rest of the family's combined. Peeta felt a chill from the look of it despite the tropical climate of the district.

The rest of the districts followed suit in the same manor. A short tour, an event at the town center with scripted speeches, and then a banquet with the Mayor and any other important people. Save for 2, which they skipped over to save for the end. The closer they got to the Capitol the more Peeta began to worry it wasn't enough, that whatever they did they were still damned and President Snow was going to exact his revenge on Peeta. He couldn't kill him outright, but he could make his life a miserable hell by taking it out on those he loved. The president was a shrewd man and would know that Peeta's capacity for love left him with multiple vulnerabilities.

"Chin up," Portia pushed with a slim finger against Peeta's chin before retouching some make-up in the light. "I ask for a subdued smolder and I get a brush-fire smoke."

She shook her head at the prep teams work, her cocoa brown hair—ironed straight—swung about her head playfully.

"You're the boy on fire, but not literally." She smiled to herself at a joke Peeta didn't seem to be in on. He didn't seem to be in on most of the things that occurred in his life anymore. Everyone else was content to make the decisions for him, without any consultation. At times it could be the most infuriating, but Portia didn't bring about that reaction in him. He trusted her implicitly.

They were once again staying in the Training Center, and it felt weird to be back and not as a tribute for the games. He had first visited the healthcare facilities in the basement earlier while Cato was styled for tonight. The doctors checked on Peeta's pacemaker and fully healed his bullet wound with some device that emitted warm radiating light. It stung briefly as the flesh stitched back together before his eyes. It was like magic to Peeta. If only such technology were available to those in the Seam.

Now he fingered lightly at the spot where he had been shot, pressing in on it and feeling nothing. No sharp pain or tough scar, just the dull pressure of his fingers. So many important life events left scars on his body and yet there was now no remnant of it left, washed away by the Capitol. They determined their history.

"Peeta, my boy, what's the matter?" Portia asked. Her hands worked in quick deliberate movements as she pulled Peeta's hair together before she took a step back to stare at him with her warm brown eyes. Peeta wished desperately that he could confide in her. But they were in the Capitol now.

"Just a little nervous about the proposal I guess."

It was a kind of truth and it felt safe to voice. He hoped. Portia smiled knowingly and squeezed his shoulder.

"You and Cato are something special. It's hard when you're so young and after what you've been through, it's understandable to feel a little lost. No one can truly know what you've been through. The feelings you have are overwhelming and you have yet to gain the experience to know how to deal with them. But I have no doubt that when the time comes you will know what the right choice is."

Peeta wasn't sure if they were still talking about the impending engagement anymore or something else entirely, but Portia seemed to know from experience what she was talking about. Something played across her face—an emotion he couldn't quite place—that seemed to indicate choices of her own had been made.

"Thanks, Portia."

Peeta stood and hugged her close.

"Careful. You're suit, we don't want to wrinkle it now," Portia warned, pulling free of the hug and setting back to work on styling Peeta for tonight's interview.

The interview with Caesar Flickerman went as expected. He wore a midnight blue suit and matching hair, eyeliner and lip stain. He guided Peeta and Cato expertly through a laundry list of questions—how they kept the love alive in separate districts or what hobbies they had taken up in their now endless spare time. The Capitol audience rode a wave of emotions emphatically before them as they answered the questions posed. Then the time was upon them.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful! Now do tell, what are your plans for the future? We're all just dying to know what's in store." Caesar asked.

Peeta turned in the love seat to look towards Cato as he cleared his throat and scooted forward, to the edge of the couch.

"Well Caesar, since you asked, there has been something I've been thinking of doing." He smiled captivatingly for the cameras. A few women swooned audibly.

Caesar leaned forward, playing along to draw up the anticipation.

"Oh yes? What is it?"

Cato slid from the love seat in one fluid motion to crouch on bended knee before Peeta. The audience gasped. Caesar even displayed an uncharacteristic emotion of sincere shock. Then Cato proposed and the audience lost their minds in riot of excitement and happiness. There was no ring to give, but the sentiment was the same. Shots from around Panem revealed equal bouts of happiness as crowds gathered in their town squares to watch the required Victory Tour interview. It was overwhelming to know that their engagement, their relationship, could evoke such strong reactions, and that they moved a whole country. Peeta accepted of course, although it all felt less than genuine. It was just for show. It was just to prove to the people of Panem and the Capitol that they really were just two men crazy in love.

After the engagement, they were then escorted to a gold encrusted car that drove them to Snow's mansion. It was time for the feast.

The palace was enormous, more than capable of fitting District 12's town square inside of it two times over. Multicolored lights and lasers danced across its façade in a spectacular display as welcome. Inside the grounds were floods of citizens making their way inside to one of the biggest parties of the year. All were dressed in their finest outfits, many of which incorporated elements of fire.

Effie Trinket, bubbling over with excitement for the festivities, led them through the entrance of the two story double doors and to the banquet hall where the feast was laid out. Banners hung from the ceiling in black and yellow, the colors of their respective districts and fires danced on stone pedestals that lined the hallway leading to the banquet hall. Multiple bands were positioned around the floor and the room was big enough that the sounds never clashed. The glass-paneled ceiling above them revealed the moon's light and refracted glittering sparkles across the room like diamonds cut into the black marble floor.

It was more extravagant than anything Peeta had witnessed in his life. Cato even laughed at the absurdity of it all. Haymitch quickly disappeared in the crowd, probably off towards the table with water fountains of different liquors.

"Do enjoy yourself boys, tonight's your night!" Effie said before departing, off to bask in her own glory no doubt.

Cato's handler and Lyme slunk off towards the tables piled with endless amounts of gourmet foods. Peeta didn't know where to start.

"Shall I get you a drink?" Cato offered, a true smile playing across his lips.

"Sure. Nothing neon in color though, I'd rather not glow in the dark when I urinate tonight."

Cato laughed as he moved off towards the fountains where Haymitch was last seen. There was a line of bathrooms along one wall where people were already waiting. Peeta watched as each slipped inside with a small vial of some concoction in their hand.

"It's a drink to make one purge."

Peeta spun on the heel of his excessively polished dress shoe to face the newcomer. He was an overly round fellow with pale blonde hair flattened across his head and a mustache that twisted out from his face as if trying to make an escape.

"Purge?"

"Yes, so they can continue eating and drinking more." The man supplied with a roguish twinkle in his eye. He held himself with a great air of importance and seemed to regard those around him with immediate lesser value, save for Peeta, whom he was talking to at the moment.

"That's awful."

"Perhaps, but 'tis the way things are done." The man then extended a meaty palm to shake Peeta's hand and—if Peeta were to be honest—he thought the man himself would do well to take advantage of the purging concoction. He slowly took the hand proffered to him by Plutarch to shake.

"Name's Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker."

"What happened to Seneca Crane?" Peeta asked bluntly, unimpressed by the title he bandied about with seeming glee at its emblematic power.

"He was… disposed of… after his improper handlings of the game last year. Not many wanted to step up after him, it is a lot of responsibility. But I graciously took the mantle."

Plutarch seemed quite pleased with himself, but Peeta was busy digesting the newest nugget of information given to him. Seneca Crane must be dead; it seemed the only likely explanation. Someone would need to pay for allowing Peeta to cheat the games.

"Anyways, I just wanted a chance to introduce myself to the famed boy on fire. The committee's been quite busy planning the third Quarter Quell for this year," he paused to sip from the crystal flute in his hand, pinky raised in an annoying fashion. "I think you will find it quite _explosive_."

Peeta was intrigued. He wondered now that since he was someone of importance to the Capitol high society, if he could use it to his advantage to gain insights, like what this year's Quarter Quell would be like. He wasn't alive for the last one, but the horrors of it still lingered in the memories of his parent's generation. Haymitch had won it, but at a terrible cost. There seemed to be nothing left inside him to live for and he never shared his experience.

"What do you have planned this time, if I may ask?" Peeta tried for charming even throwing on a begging smile for good measure.

"Oh ho! You'll see soon enough!" Plutarch teased before turning suddenly serious. "I must be leaving soon…"

Then he pulled from the inner pockets of his viridian blazer a gold pocket watch to look at the time.

"It begins at midnight." He said.

Peeta wasn't sure what he was talking about, but before he could voice his question, Plutarch leaned into Peeta's personal space and flashed the pocket watch at him. Peeta noticed it was no ordinary time-telling device. For the faintest of moments a hologram of a mockingjay seemed to blaze across the surface of the watch. Then it was gone as quickly as it appeared, a trick of the light perhaps?

"Even when it's hard, listen to your true heart." Plutarch warned before he stepped to the side of Peeta, leaving him among the crowd, truly puzzled by what just played out before him.

Cato returned moments later holding two glasses filled with a pale gold liquid that smelled of cinnamon and cherries.

"Who where you just talking to?" He asked, passing one of the glasses to Peeta.

"Just the new head Gamemaker. He's… an interesting man." Peeta scanned the crowd, but was unable to spot him.

Cato was starved, so they made their way over to the banquet tables and indulged in the many fine delicacies available to them. Peeta particularly enjoyed the marinated skewers of meat and the sweet melon cobbler. There was too much to choose from and no way he could try everything he wanted, but he would never take the purging liquid just so he could enjoy more food. It was repulsive to even think of such an action when people were starving this very moment in his home district. The very thought of such things happening while the Capitol partied to excess made the food in Peeta's stomach turn to stone.

Throughout the night, various groups would come up to them to gush about their romance or to just try and get a hand on them. At many points during the night, young women and even a few men swarmed Cato, desperate for his attention. At one such point was when a pair of ice blue eyes locked onto Peeta's and held him captive. He could practically feel them worming their way into his brain and forcing him forward. Peeta's feet moved towards the icy stair with out his volition. Internally, Peeta's heartbeat spiked with anxiety at the impending moment of truth. This was it. This was when Peeta would find out whether all their planning and carefully crafted speeches paid off. _We can do this… we can do anything._ Cato's words sounded out of the darkness of his mind and Peeta knew this would be the ultimate test of those words. Could they do anything together?

Finally Peeta's feet came to a stop before the President. Two Peacekeepers guarded his flank on either side like stone carvings. He wore a crisp white suit with gold inlays along the seams and the edges of his cuffs. A white rose cut at full bloom protruded from the breast pocket of his blazer. The sickly sweet smell of it stabbed at Peeta's nose and he was reminded of the smell of blood it worked to hide.

"Are you enjoying your time here Peeta?" Snow asked with a wicked smile on his blood red lips. It taunted Peeta, daring him to talk back, but Peeta swallowed the defiant urge.

"Yes, it's all very… enjoyable." Peeta turned the word back on him with a vacant tone.

"I am glad." He wasn't. "That was quite a moving proposal, I must say." Snow spoke slow and delicately, but every word that came out of his mouth lacked the authenticity of real emotion. This whole interaction was for show. They were in public after all. "The audience seemed ever so convinced of your love for each other."

"And you?" Peeta asked before holding his breath. They had arrived at the point of the conversation rather fast. Snow's icy eyes crinkled just the slightest.

"I have no doubt of the love you two hold for each other," He said and Peeta began to release his breath when Snow continued. "But as for your other… motivations. Well, lets just say I remain unmoved. It shall be interesting to see how your marriage plays out from separate districts. I shall be rooting for you two."

Suddenly there wasn't enough air in the whole of the ballroom for Peeta to breathe. He was suffocating in silent agony before hundreds of witnesses. President Snow watched him closely as Peeta worked to compose himself internally, to pretend like the world wasn't crumbling around him. He cleared his throat.

"I thank you for your hospitality tonight, Mr. President."

Peeta bowed in spite of Snow and moved to make his departure when Snow made a sound in his throat. A signal he was not done just yet.

"You are very much welcome, Mr. Mellark. I know you tried your hardest. You may not have completed what was asked of you, but I know in the end you will help the Capitol complete its goal. Willfully or not…" A wicked look of bloodlust slid back across his face trying to pass for a smile. He leaned forward and spoke with the utmost of delicacy, "Now do enjoy the remainder of your time with your fiancé."

He straightened back up and turned his head to look off in another direction, signaling he was now done. Peeta gathered what air he could in his lungs and walked back to where he left Cato. He had tried to keep from letting hope leach into his mind as they moved through the tour for just this reason. He knew it was a slim chance that Snow would let them live together happily ever after, but it still hurt deeper than he expected. It was as if Snow had gutted him before all the revelers and now he had to walk back in agony, carrying his bloody remains, to Cato and share the news.

"Peeta! There you are!" Cato said, rushing to his side and taking Peeta's hand. He jerked him in a rush towards the dance floor in front of one of the bands, eager to escape his groupies and unaware of Peeta's off-kilter disposition. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I was…" Peeta wasn't sure how to say it. Then Cato took Peeta's hands and wrapped them around his waist before doing the same with his. "It doesn't matter."

Cato seemed to accept his non-answer. They stepped and swayed slowly to the music, wrapped close in each other's arms. Peeta planted his head against Cato's chest and breathed in his warm and spicy scent. He was not sure he could bring himself to tell Cato what had just happened with Snow. They only had so much time left together and he didn't want to ruin the mood. He just wanted to live in the moment, together with Cato, absorbing everything he could before it was all taken away again.

They stayed on the dance floor for a while longer. The music may have changed in tone, but they never pulled apart from each other to change their dance style to match. The floor grew crowded with more and more people joining to dance in front of the band. Their choices apparently dictated what was popular for the night. The bug-like pods of the cameras followed them through their dance, capturing video of their display of love to be broadcast over Panem. No matter what they did they were under constant scrutiny.

Around two in the morning the party was still raging forcefully and showing no signs of stopping, but both Peeta and Cato were ready to head back to the training center and their room. Their chauffeur was waiting for them out front, probably having never left, and took them back to the training center.

When they were in the elevator Peeta suddenly had an idea and pressed the button for the 13th floor instead of 2. Cato looked at him questioningly but said nothing.

The rooftop was the same as Peeta remembered. They exited the domed room and moved around the roof towards the garden. It was still decorated with its various potted flowers of creamy whites and trees that were in constant bloom. The air had the perfumed smell of vanilla Peeta remembered so well.

"What are we doing up here?" Cato asked.

But Peeta just shook his head and pulled Cato's hand in his as he guided him towards their bench and the tree under which they shared their first kiss. It was after midnight, but Peeta couldn't help but play the lyrics in his mind of the song that propelled him forward into the beginnings of a rebellion.

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

"I love you, Cato."

Cato looked at Peeta with surprise in his amber eyes.

"And I love you."

Peeta nodded, struggling to catch his breath underneath Cato's probing gaze. _God, he doesn't even know what he does to me,_ Peeta thought, _but I hope to make him._ Then he lowered down on one knee before Cato, holding both of his hands between his smaller ones. Cato's sucked in a loud breath.

"I know you already did this," Peeta began with a small chuckle before turning serious. "But that wasn't real. This is. Cato Ryves, you taught me how to love. You saved me from a trivial existence. I can't—" Peeta almost choked up, so many emotions were swelling up inside him that he felt lost to himself. His true motivations buried beneath his need to have Cato as his, even if just for a little while longer. "I can't imagine my life today without you having been in it. So will you give me the honor of your love for the rest of our lives? Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes, of course Peeta." Cato replied gruffly, stifling his own emotions as he pulled Peeta up and into a passionate embrace.

It felt like a different time as their kiss deepened. Peeta was swept back to a time when this was all new to him and it was all desperate touches and wonder, the thought that they may never have this again after the games heavy on their mind. But here they were, back under the tree where it all started, reclaiming their love for one another, even if it was all for naught.

Cato broke free from the kiss and Peeta groaned in displeasure.

"One second," He panted, then disentangled himself from Peeta and moved to grip a branch from the tree they stood underneath.

"Don't tell me you're going to throw a branch over the edge to impress me?"

Cato barked out a laugh at the memory of his showy attempt at flirting.

"No, not this time."

Then he broke off a particularly springy branch, which he proceeded to strip it of its bark in long quarter-inch wide strips. Peeta watched in awe as Cato fashioned two knotted rings out of the pliable young bark.

"Give me your hand."

Peeta held out his left hand as Cato slid the makeshift ring on his ring finger. Peeta did the same in return for Cato.

"Now we're properly engaged," Cato said.

"I love it." Peeta beamed proudly, leaning up to press a kiss against Cato's soft pink lips. "And you."

The kiss began to grow in passion and urgency as their hands roamed the contours of the other's body. It had been far too long since they did something like this with Peeta's wound prohibiting it during the Victory Tour. But now he was healed and their inhibitions quickly crumbled as their bodies molded together as one.

Cato unleashed a throaty groan into Peeta's mouth when his hand slipped between their bodies to grope his manhood. Peeta's head swam with a heady lust he hadn't felt in far too many months as he fingered the already rock hard length of Cato. His memory had made it out to be bigger than it really was, but the solid length of it in his hand was better than any daydream he'd had about Cato in their long separation. He nipped at Cato's lip and then dove back in with the fervor of a starved man. He had been deprived of this for far too long.

Peeta released needy little grunts as Cato picked Peeta up in his arms and came to rest him against the trunk of their tree. Their groins were now perfectly slotted together as they rutted against the other's hard length in a fiery passion.

"Oh god, I've missed this," Cato groaned, leaning his head back as Peeta dove in to bit and lick along his muscular neck. Peeta paid particular attention to the pulse point on the side of his neck, laving it with the flat edge of his tongue before moving up towards his ear and biting down on the fleshy lobe. "Ah!" Cato growled out in pleasure and pain, his hips stuttering against Peeta's.

"Off, now!" Peeta demanded, pulling persistently at the blazer stretched taut against Cato's back. There were too many layers between them and not enough sense between the two of them to take them off calmly or think of going downstairs to their bed. It was now or never.

Peeta flung Cato's blazer over his shoulders and off his back. Cato pulled back, only slightly, so Peeta could be set back against the ground. Then they both began tearing at their clothes like men on fire, desperate to rid themselves of the burning articles. Once Cato was shirtless, Peeta froze in the process of undoing his pants to stare. It was a sight he never got tired of, the rugged muscles of his chest. He licked his lips and reached a hand out dragging his nails down over Cato's chest and abdomen. Cato hissed and Peeta lunged forward to soothe the red marks with his tongue.

The cool wind whipped across the roof and set Cato's nipples on edge, drawing Peeta's attention to those. Cato, suddenly unable to wait a moment longer, gripped Peeta's shoulders tightly and pulled him to the ground atop their pile of shirts, vests and blazers. He then tore into Peeta's pants, popping one of the buttons off before slipping them halfway down his thighs and then diving in to envelope Peeta's rigid member in the hot suction of his mouth. His jaw line looked vividly obscene as he accommodated Peeta's girth.

Peeta cried out into the night air, throwing his head back in ecstatic pleasure. Cato used one hand to work his shaft in time with the rise and fall of his sinful lips while the other wormed its way between his thighs to brush against his hole._ Cato, Cato, Cato,_ was all that ran through Peeta's mind as the warmth and unrelenting suction of Cato's velvet mouth brought him exquisitely close to the edge in no time flat.

A finger slipped inside Peeta with surprising ease and a startled gasp escaped Peeta's lips. His eyes shot open as a second finger joined the first and they crooked inside him, finding that pleasure spot that made him whimper like a wounded animal. It was too much, the mouth on his cock and the hands working in and out of him in a perfect rhythm.

Then the hand inside Peeta withdrew and moved to between Cato's legs, quickly undoing his belt and pants before pulling free his weeping cock. Peeta leaned forward to touch the member he'd been denied for so long. He moved his hand up and down along the soft pink flesh of his penis before swiping the pre-cum from the tip and bringing it to his lips where he licked it clean. Cato watched him from his position, with his lips still around Peeta's cock, and growled fiercely at the display, the vibrations playing out exquisitely along his cock and reaching up his spine to cloud his brain with even more hazy lust.

"Peeta, I need you, now." Cato moaned when he pulled off Peeta's cock with a wet pop.

"Then take me," Peeta demanded as he twisted over onto his hands and knees, baring his smooth round ass to Cato. It was his for the taking. Always.

Peeta heard Cato spit into the palm of his hand and then felt the dull pressure of his lover's penis pushing against the entrance of his ass. He bore down on it and then jolted as it suddenly slid in to the base.

"OH, fuck!" Peeta cussed, having forgotten what it felt like to feel so full. He needed more of it, afraid if he didn't get it now it would be lost to him, and ground back against Cato, not caring that he wasn't properly adjusted yet. "Cato, I need you, _please_."

Cato began pumping in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. He bent forward and Peeta felt as the large muscles of Cato's chest came to rest against his back. His hips picked up the pace, slowly building, the white-hot pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach as Cato panted against his ear, "I'm here, Peeta, fuck. You're so tight. Damn, I've—I've missed this so much."

Peeta braced both his hands on the wooden bench before him as Cato began to piston in and out of him. Their skin slapped against each other wet with sweat, the wind whipping over their bodies and cooling it as their insides overheated with pleasure and need and uninhibited lust. Everything that had been trapped inside of them, all the want and longing and pain of the separation, finally released in the throb of Cato's cock deep inside Peeta. Peeta cried out in pleasure, Cato's hand wrapping around him unexpectedly and pumping him twice before his seed spilled all over their jackets in thick, ropey pulses.

They collapsed in a heap—Cato atop Peeta's back—on the ground. Peeta could feel the semen on the jackets against his chest and the wild beat of Cato's heart against his back. He twisted so that he could look into Cato's eyes one more time. Then he kissed his fiancé with the last of his passion before he was completely spent.

At some point Cato gathered their things and moved them down to their room, but Peeta was too wiped out to be of much help. Once cloaked in the warmth of the plush bed and Cato's strong arms he drifted off to sleep, a deeply satisfied smile on his face. The looming problems of the past night forgotten to him as he allowed himself this one moment of true happiness.


	8. Chapter 8

**To those of you that reviewed, you are beautiful lovely beings and you make this experience worthwhile! And for those of you that haven't reviewed in a while or at all, you're severely slacking! This is an eventful chapter and I expect feedback! So read it before I explode with anticipation for your reactions!**

**Oh and also a huge shoutout to MaTM97 for being such an amazing guy and editing these lengthy chapters even when he is super busy with life and obviously has more important things to do than listen to my crazy rants and edit my sloppy grammar. He's a sweetheart and I adore him.**

Ch.8- District 2

The train arrived at the station for District Two in mid-morning. They had the whole afternoon for Cato to show Peeta around, another perk of the favored Career districts. But Peeta wasn't upset about it in the slightest. It meant more time with Cato. It meant more chances to bear witness to the spectacle that was a truly happy Cato. Peeta would hold onto the bad news, for now, that President Snow was unconvinced and that they were to go to their separate Districts after the Tour. As long as it meant he got to spend another minute with this Cato. Since their engagement, Cato had been moving with a lighter step and talking with a quicker wit. It was the easiest thing in the world to pull a laugh from him, and the affection he showed towards Peeta was intoxicating. Peeta could get lost for hours in just the simplest thing like touching Cato, holding him or being held, and pressing soft kisses against his sun tanned skin. They fucked once more in the morning before leaving, and two more times on the train ride to District Two. Peeta wasn't sure how much more he could take in one day, but he'd sure try. Anything for that smile that crinkled his nose and sparked his amber eyes.

Upon arriving in District Two Peeta's eyes were immediately captivated by their famous landmark, the Nut. It was quite the spectacle to behold. The mountain towered over all the interconnected towns of District Two, with railways intersecting them all and leading up to the behemoth of a mountain. The peak was capped with snow and Peeta wondered if anyone climbed to the top of it for sport.

Cato filled him in on how the inside was practically hollowed out for their industrial war complex. Ammunitions, tanks, hovercrafts and other machinations of war were stored there. It was also a major production hub of stone. If Cato's father hadn't won the Hunger Games, his family would still be working the stone quarries. It was weird to think that he owed the chance of even meeting Cato to the fact that his father first won the Hunger Games by way of his ruthless killing style.

As they walked through the town center towards Victors' Village, Peeta couldn't help but notice all the attention directed their way, or more specifically Peeta's. It was different than it was at home. The people here regarded him warily if not with outright hostility. Some children pointed and their parents quickly guided them away, while others sneered at the sight of them.

"I had no idea you were so unpopular here," Peeta whispered, as they made their way down a side street, hand-in-hand. Cato was nothing short of defiant in the way he held himself as he walked with Peeta to his home. His hand tensed in Peeta's at the statement.

"Well, I didn't want to tell you over the phone, but yeah, it hasn't been the easiest. Most people here want to continue their alliance with the Capitol. They think they have it good. They view my relationship with you as an act of treason," He replied rather blandly, like it was all terribly boring and not absolutely horrifying. "But it will all be better once you're here with me."

He said it so confidently Peeta almost believed it was true. Then he remembered Cato still didn't know. His gut twisted in guilt, but he ignored it.

"_Treason_?" Peeta asked.

"They think," Said Cato discretely, "You acted out of defiance to the Capitol and so, by association, I did too. My friendship with Dreg has been on the rocks ever since."

"Who's Dreg?"

"You'll meet him tonight. He's the Mayor's son."

Peeta felt embarrassed. He should know these things about his boyfriend, at the very least the names of his friends. But Peeta was quickly realizing how little he did know about the man he claimed to love. Cato didn't seem to want to say more and his grip was crushing on Peeta's hand, so he closed his mouth and focused on taking in the scenery. The buildings in 2 were even nicer than home, most of them having been built out of the respectable stone and marble they got from their quarries. Even all the streets were paved, a novelty only afforded to the very center of town back at home. The differences between the districts never ceased to astound Peeta.

It was easy to tell when they arrived in Victors' Village, the houses all looked similar to the one he lived in except for the third story they each held. Three stories, now that was something unheard of in District 12. The street was even being expanded at the end with mute Avoxes scurrying about building a set of four new homes.

"You've actually run out of victory homes?" Peeta asked in disbelief.

Cato shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the meanings of it all—that he came from such a world where as Peeta had only ever known poverty and the art of barely scraping by. Peeta was too busy analyzing the houses they passed that he didn't see the woman approaching in time and his shoulder just happened to graze against hers.

"Watch it." The woman hissed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see—"

"You don't need to apologize to her, she could have just as easily moved out of the way," Cato jumped in to interrupt. His brown eyes focused in a steely gaze on the fearsome looking woman.

"You'd do well to keep your boy on a short leash while here, Ryves." The woman sneered again and Peeta had to contain a gasp at the sight of her razor sharp teeth capped in gold.

"If you keep an eye on where you walk." Cato retorted before tugging Peeta's hand and continuing them on their path down the street. Once they were out of earshot he explained, "That was Enobaria. She's a true psychopath. She's infamous for ripping out the throats of her victims, which is why when she returned she filed her teeth to sharp points."

"My god," Peeta looked back, worried she may be following. She was someone he never wanted to face alone. "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble with her now."

"Fuck her, I'm not afraid of her." Cato's chest swelled in righteous anger. "She doesn't get along with people well. My father said she never truly adjusted after returning."

Peeta then felt an odd sense of sadness for her. It wasn't her fault she was this way, just another victim of the Capitol's cruelty. His mind was quickly taken from such matters though, when a bright red flame burst forth from one of the homes to their right and a sharp squeal rang down the street. Even some of the Avoxes looked up from their work to see what the source of the racket was.

"Cato, Cato, Cato!" The little firecracker shouted before running in her gold sandals and purple jumper.

Cato let go of Peeta's hand and bent his knees, swooping her up in his arms when she lunged at him and he hugged her close. Peeta looked on fondly, knowing this must be his precious Cassadine. That was one thing he knew for sure.

"I missed you oh so terribly!" She sighed into his neck. "Papa was horrible of course, making stupid little comments every time you were on the TV. But I made sure he'd be on his best behavior today!"

"Thank you, Cassy." Cato kissed the top of her head before setting her back down.

She then turned and held out a delicately small hand to Peeta. Her presence was much grander than the actual size of her body.

"You must be Cassadine," Peeta said, shaking her hand in his lightly. "I've heard only great things about you and I must say nothing does justice to the real thing."

"Ooh, I like him." Cassy replied, a tremendous smile breaking out across her face at Peeta's charming words. She rolled back on the heels of her feet to stare him up and down before turning abruptly serious. "So you're gonna marry my brother?"

Cato laughed watching their interaction.

"I sure hope so," Peeta smiled in reply.

"Good. You have to keep him happy. I hate it when he's sad and he's just been unbearable without you." She spoke with her hands on her hip and a large amount of confidence for young girl.

"Hey!" Cato mocked hurt.

She turned to Cato and made a face he'd never seen on such a young girl, one that managed to portray her exasperation with her brother while also communicating the subtler notes of her affection for him. She was a fierce and independent little girl, and she knew exactly who she was already. Peeta liked it.

"C'mon, Mom and Dad are waiting and you know how they hate that." She marched off back towards the house.

"How old did you say she was?" Peeta asked, trying to contain his laughter at his sister's attitude.

"Eleven, almost twelve." Cato noted. His eyes glassed over probably with fond memories.

"Bossy little thing," Peeta noted. Cato turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"You have no idea. Now let's get this over with." He took Peeta's hand once more and led him to the second house on their right.

Cato's childhood home was surprisingly conventional. It had almost the same layout as his victor's home, but it was decorated with much nicer furniture. A large grandfather clock stood sentry at the end of the hallway by the stairwell that led upstairs. To the right they entered the kitchen and dining room where a massive oak table was placed with seating for eight. This is where they found Cato's parents.

Cassadine was next to her father, who had his face hidden behind a book while his mother sat down at the end of the table putting on a toxic, glittering pink nail polish. Neither of them looked up from what they were doing when they entered.

"Papa! They're here!" Cassadine said while tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

He finally set down the book and took in his guests. His eyes slid over his son disapprovingly before coming to land on Peeta with an infiltrating stare. He had hard brown eyes and sharp eyebrows of displeasure, but he was instantly recognizable to Peeta as Cato's father. His blonde hair matched that of Cato's save for the grays that peppered it. His shoulders and chest were just as broad and massive as his son's. Everything about him was big and foreboding, something Cato pulled off well at the beginning of the Hunger Games.

"Hello then," he said. "You may call me Mr. Ryves or Sir, welcome to my home."

"It's a nice to finally meet you, sir."

Peeta walked around the table with an extended arm that was met with a speculative stare before he shook it for no more than a second and let it go. Peeta swallowed reflexively and backed away, hoping he hadn't made a mistake.

"Mama!" Cassadine said forcefully. She finally looked up from her task with a bland look on her face. She might have been pretty at one point with her petite frame, soft feminine face and red hair, but the apathy of her life had drained any uniqueness from her existence, leaving nothing but a shell of a woman desperate to adorn herself with fine styling's and jewelry to distract from her banality.

"This is him, then?" She asked her son, taking in the sight of Peeta before making a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth. "I don't see what's so special, but then again I missed the games this year."

She went back to applying polish to her right hand now, which required a finer pace with her non-dominant hand. Peeta felt sick to his stomach for Cato. His mother hadn't even watched the games he was in! He shot a look at Cato, but his face was already closed off, hiding any of the true emotions he was feeling at the moment.

"Well I wanted to introduce you all to him and that was it, we'll be leaving now." Cato motioned with his head towards the door for Peeta to follow his exit. At the door he stopped to ask, "Will I be seeing you at the Mayor's house tonight?"

"Of course, he's a dear friend of ours. You know that." His father replied dismissively.

Cassy followed them out of the house and continued with them on their tour of District Two, interjecting her commentaries on top of Cato's or correcting him when she thought he told something wrong. It was extremely endearing to see Cato interact with his sister. He was a doting and protective brother and Cassy could easily get whatever she wanted from Cato, all she had to do was pout. He took copious notes.

Slowly, day bled into night and before they had realized it, the time was upon them for the festivities to begin. There would be a whole feast for the District to participate in after the speeches. Peeta and Cato's stylists collected and styled them before they delivered their scripted remarks before an unenthusiastic crowd. Most people seemed offended by the mere presence of Peeta, but he noticed a few with a hopeful glint in their eyes. They were mostly quarry workers shoved towards the back of the large crowd.

Clove's family stood off to the side of the stage where the families of the tributes that died typically stood. They all had the same inky black hair and pale skin. Peeta supposed the woman looking off into the distance with a frozen look and tears in her eyes was her mother. Even sadistic tributes like Clove had families that missed them. Peeta was more than glad to get off that stage and join the Mayor and other politicians of the district for dinner.

The sounds of music and festivities could be heard filtering in through the windows at the Mayor's home. The Avoxes were still preparing dinner and they all lingered in the foyer while cocktails were distributed. The Mayor marked the arrival of the Ryves' boisterously and it was startling to see such a different version of Cato's father. He was friendly and warm with the Mayor as they both hugged and even his mother, dressed up to the nines, was found to be engaging in lively gossip with his wife. They didn't even pay notice to their son or his fiancé. One could even forget the evening was in honor of them.

Cassadine was dressed in an emerald green tea dress and flounced over to her brother's side. It was an interesting experience after having been the center of attention the whole tour to feel so sidelined and unimportant at their festivities in Two. Effie made her rounds soaking up the party, while Haymitch stood by the Avox with the wine jug, harassing him to top his glass off after each gulp. Lyme eschewed the company of most, sitting on a secluded bench near the stairwell eating a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

While they talked amongst themselves on the fringes of the party, a young man close in stature to Cato, but maybe an inch shorter with wiry brown hair and a scar across his nose came over to them.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your _fiancé_, Cato?" The man asked with a deep timbre. His rusty brown eyes held a cruel mirth that offended Peeta, which he assumed did the same for Cato as he bristled beside him.

"Dreg, this is Peeta," Cato motioned with a stiff hand between the two of them. "There, now you can go back to schmoozing."

"You mock me Cato, but you might try it yourself sometime, or you may just find no one has your back when you need it most." Dreg's thin eyebrows slanted up in a knowing look.

"I'll have his back." Peeta interjected, stepping forward with his arms folded over his chest in defiance.

"Me too!" Cassy quipped on her toes trying to seem taller than she was.

"That's so sweet it makes my stomach ache. Or perhaps I'm just hungry. I think I'll go harass the cooks."

Then Dreg swept from their presence, throwing one final smirk over his shoulder. Peeta heard the distinct sound of Cato's knuckles cracking and rested a hand on his shoulder to try and soothe him.

"Don't listen to him, plenty of people have your back."

"Not here." Cato grumbled before turning into Peeta and pulling him close, nuzzling the side of his head with his nose. He inhaled the scent deeply. "That's why it will be so much better once you're living here. You can change minds, I know it."

Peeta felt his cheeks redden, and it wasn't because of Cato's compliment and so he deflected.

"You're messing up my hair," Peeta huffed a laugh and extricated himself from Cato's arms.

It was finally time to be seated for dinner as a woman in a polka-dotted black and silver pantsuit announced dinner was ready. Peeta didn't feel so well just yet and he pulled back from the crowd.

"I'm going to use the bathroom first," He told Cato. He motioned with his hands for him to go and get seated, not to wait on account of him. "I'll be right there."

Peeta floundered at a loss in the foyer for a moment before taking up the stairs two at a time. His stomach felt oddly hollow and discontent. He just needed a moment to collect himself. This was all going to be over so soon and he wasn't sure he could do it. Was this what the rest of their life would be like? Months separated from each other, only to have a few weeks out of the year reunited, probably as mentors at the Hunger Games? It was too hellish of a torment to imagine for the time being, and so Peeta quickly scanned the hallway for a bathroom.

Instead he ended up inside a large study, probably the Mayor's workspace. The television played idly in the background with images of Peeta and Cato dancing and kissing at the Capitol party. There we vast amounts of memos and notepads scattered across the mahogany wood desk. Peeta wondered if any pertained to them. He shouldn't be here. Just as he turned to leave, a sharp beep emitted from the television and drew his attention. Two more beeps followed before the image switched from the television to a monochromatic studio.

A woman appeared on the screen—she was not like any news anchor Peeta had ever seen. She had straggly gray hair and spectacles that were perched at the edge of her nose as she read from a piece of paper just handed to her. This wasn't meant for Peeta, he could get in even more trouble if caught listening to her report, but then she began to speak and Peeta couldn't move away.

"This is an update on the situation in 8. We are raising the threat to a level 3 alert. The textile factories have been completely shut down and all production halted until further notice. More forces are being moved into the area as we speak."

The television screen flashed from the studio to a clip from the town square of District Eight. Peeta recognized it because they had just been there the week before. It was an ugly, urban district that stunk of industrial fumes and everyone lived on top of each other in tightly-packed buildings and squalor. In the town square, banners of Peeta and Cato still hung in the background, tattered and frayed, swaying in a turbulent breeze. But that's not what caused Peeta's breath to hitch and his heart to stutter. No it was the images of a vast mob of angry people wearing rags and homemade masks over their faces rioting in the town square. A building was on fire. Bricks and pipes were thrown with violent force at the army of Peacekeepers marching on them. The Peacekeepers opened fire with their automatic rifles indiscriminately on the crowd. It might have been the same scene from District Twelve before they left for all he knew. Was this happening across all of Panem?

"Oh god!" Peeta gasped when the images turned too bloody and violent for him to look on any longer. Bodies, blood spattered and lifeless, fell to the ground and more rushed forward to take their place in the fight.

No, this wasn't just a fight this was an uprising. Peeta swung about to rush from the room.

"Terrible, isn't it?"

Dreg stood blocking the doorway with his arms folded neatly over his chest, his biceps bulging. The sneer on his face whitened the jagged scar across his face making it stand out against the smooth tan of his skin.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking for the bathroom—" Peeta began to explain.

"See what you've started? All that violence and death is on your hands. You're the boy on fire, and everything's burning because of _you_."

Dreg inched closer to Peeta as he simultaneously backed away. Peeta was unsure of his intentions, but his hostility was apparent. It radiated off him in waves like air warped by heat. The sounds of rioting and gunfire filled the silence between them like a prelude.

"We should get back to the party," Peeta said.

Sweat broke out across the back of his neck. No one knew he was up here, Cato thought he was in the restroom. Peeta edged closer to the mahogany desk.

"I was wondering what it would take," Dreg speculated. He brought the meaty fingers of his right hand up to his chin, stroking the stubble there.

"Take what?" Peeta asked in confusion. The sounds of the uprising from the television suddenly ended as the broadcast ceased and the channel switched back to clips from the Capitol party.

"What it would take to break your spirit."

Dreg lunged forward at a frightening speed. Peeta dove around the mahogany desk, but his kneecap slammed into the chair which was behind it and he grunted in pain. Dreg pulled back, faking his forward attack, and then laughed cruelly to himself at Peeta's flailing.

"You don't seem to know much about combat, you just might want to start learning," Dreg warned. Stray strands of his wiry brown hair hung across his face through which his calculative eyes watched Peeta, deliberating.

"What's going on here?"

Cato's voice broke through the stagnant air of fear and uncertainty like a beacon. Peeta saw him standing just inside the doorjamb, his face slack with confusion, but his eyes darted about drinking in the scene before him.

"Oh look, its Peeta's bitch, come to save him." Dreg sneered at Cato, turning away from Peeta so he could face the newest arrival. "Tell me Cato, what's it like to lose all self-respect? It must hurt. Luckily you've got Peeta here. I bet he's good at stroking your ego, or is that something else he strokes?"

"That's it!" Cato roared as he launched himself forward, fists at the ready.

Dreg was prepared for it and he dodged to the side. Cato tried to course correct but his velocity and blind rage dulled his reflexes. Dreg tackled him from the side and they both slammed into the desk. The lampshade rattled and fell off, crashing against the floor.

"Cato!" Peeta shouted.

He ran around the desk to try and help, but Cato snarled at him to stay out of it. Dreg cracked Cato's head backwards against the table, but Cato rebounded upright into a head butt that split Dreg's lip and knocked him back a few feet. That gave Cato the time and room to pull up and charge Dreg. Both of them smashed into the wall behind them. The noises that escaped their lips made it sound as if two rabid dogs were fighting to the death. Dreg landed a punch to the ribs, but Cato was unfazed. He just used his tight grip against Dreg's shirt to pull him forward and slam him back against the wall harder. Then he pushed his arm up and against Dreg's windpipe, crushing down against it until he was gasping for air. His fingers scrabbled against Cato's forearm, desperately trying to get purchase and pull free.

Peeta watched in horror as Dreg's face slowly turned a worrying shade of blue. The situation had deteriorated from bad to worse in seconds and suddenly Peeta found he was worried for Dreg's safety. Dreg's eyes darted back and forth from Cato to Peeta pleadingly. He obviously wasn't prepared to lose his life tonight.

"Cato, stop this!" Peeta begged, coming to his side and trying to rein his unhinged boyfriend back under control. "This isn't you!"

Cato finally broke his crazed stare from Dreg's face to glance at Peeta before it dawned in his eyes what he was doing.

"You used to be my fucking friend!" Cato spat at Dreg before pushing off of him and stalking away towards the door, dragging Peeta by the wrist behind him. Dreg coughed and hacked as he tried to breath in quickly, refilling his lungs with much deprived oxygen. Peeta watched him to make sure he was okay, but Cato kept tugging.

"And you used to be the star child of District Two, I guess things change," Dreg snarled, wiping the blood from his lip across the back of his palm. Then he collapsed in a chair against the wall and Cato swept Peeta from the room.

Dinner was an anxiety-inducing affair, but Dreg never came down to join the feast. Peeta worried to the point that his stomach grew upset and he ate no further than the first course. Cato's friendship was forever severed with Dreg now, and Peeta couldn't help but feel responsible. It seemed that everything that went wrong anymore could be linked back to Peeta. The most troublesome of all though was Cato. Peeta watched him throughout the remainder of dinner with a wary eye. He had seemed wholeheartedly prepared to choke the life from Dreg, and it terrified Peeta. This wasn't the man Cato was supposed to be.

Then things only got worse as the festivities in District Two came to a close later that night and Peeta realized he was out of time. They were walking back in a strained silence to Cato's house. It was a cloudy night as nary a star was visible in the roiling black sky. It reflected the thunderous mood that had been rolling off Cato in torrid waves since the fight. Cassadine had left with her parents earlier, but not before telling Cato to quit being so moody.

"Peeta! I've been informed we have half an hour before we must report back to the train," Effie suddenly appeared behind Cato and Peeta, effusing inappropriate amounts of enthusiasm. "Time to say our goodbyes."

Cato's brooding face sharpened as he looked at Peeta with a new skepticism.

"Oh—okay, thanks Effie," Peeta said jarringly, trying to communicate with Haymitch—who stood behind her—to give him a moment. He quickly attuned to the situation and guided a confused Effie away.

"Haymitch, this dress cost more than a month's salary! Do _not_ stretch the sleeves!"

"What's he saying? You're staying though, right? We haven't heard anything from Snow, no news is good news, right?" Cato asked in a breathless rush. His voice dropped in volume. Bit by bit he was growing more panicked in tone, his eyebrows slowly creeping up his forehead. "_Right?_"

Peeta reached for Cato's hand, but he snapped it from reach. Peeta pulled back from him, beseeching with his eyes for Cato to listen. Cato's body was coiled tight like a woodland critter he had stumbled upon and frightened, but it wasn't yet sure whether it should run or stay.

"Cato—" Peeta clogged up. Fuck, he didn't know how to do this, but he knew it shouldn't have come to this. It was too late. "I—I wanted to tell you, I did, but I didn't want to ruin things. We were so happy there for a moment and…"

"What are you saying?" Cato demanded. His voice had an uncharacteristic quaver to it that tore at Peeta's heart.

"Snow approached me the other night at the Capitol Party," Peeta finally revealed. It killed him to have to tell Cato this and even more so as the look of comprehension and betrayal spread across his face. His whole body tensed up and then he lashed out at Peeta like the crack of a whip.

"You lied to me?" Cato just about screamed. Peeta flinched. He raised his hands to plead his case, but Cato turned his back to him and stormed down the empty street. Then just as quickly he whipped back around and marched up to Peeta who didn't budge an inch. "You let me believe we had hope! You let me think this whole time it was all going to be okay! _How could you do that to me_?"

Peeta opened his mouth, but found it arid as the desert they passed through to get to District Two. His gift with words failed him.

"I didn't lie, Cato!" Peeta gasped. "I just didn't know how or—or when to tell you."

Peeta reached for Cato again, but he was shoved back. Peeta's heart jumped into his throat. Cato drew in on himself, not even realizing he'd just shoved Peeta.

"Wait, wait," Cato said. Peeta watched Cato's mind reel before him as he paced quickly to-and-fro. "You knew when you proposed, didn't you? You knew it then and still you asked me to marry you? How are we supposed to get married when we live a _thousand_ miles apart?"

Peeta looked downcast at the stone pavement. He didn't have an answer for that; he didn't have an explanation for why he did any of those things now that the time had come. How were they supposed to marry?

"I don't know if I can do this again!" Cato shouted. He turned his back to Peeta and lifted his head towards the sky. The black clouds swirled in distress above them.

"What are you saying?" Peeta asked wide-eyed with fear. This couldn't be the end. Not now, not so soon. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Suddenly, Cato spun around and came at Peeta. He cowered in on himself, internally scared of what may happen, but not willing to step back. Cato didn't hit him; he clung to Peeta's shoulders with a wild fire in his amber eyes. When he spoke it was with a controlled agony that sent electric shocks throughout Peeta's nervous system.

"We could run away, tonight. Just you and me! You know we can make it on our own out there! Please…"

Peeta was shocked by the desperation in his voice and the absurdity of the idea Cato was clinging to. Peeta pried Cato's sweaty hands from his shoulders and held them in his. He looked directly into Cato's eyes with nothing but sympathy and love, but shook his head.

"You know we can't do that. We have responsibilities, people that need us that we can't just leave behind. You've got Cassy. I've got Prim, my dad. The Capitol would come for them and use them against us."

Cato deflated in an instant. It was an absurd long shot and Peeta knew he was just grasping at straws. But then, just as quickly he swung back to fury. His emotions fluctuated uncontrollably.

"So what, this is how it's going to be? We wait another five months only to have a few weeks together during the Hunger Games? This is bullshit!" Cato kicked at the ground with his outburst.

"What do you want me to do about it?" said Peeta. Now he was furious too. It was unfair to cast the blame entirely on his shoulders when he was just as much the victim here as Cato, but in his rage he seemed unable to see that, just the lies by omission Peeta made. "You don't think I feel _the same_ _way_? That every day apart from you is like a toxin to the heart? It's like eating the nightlock all over again, and it eats away at my heart every waking minute until one day I'm going to wake up and there's nothing left, it's all withered away!"

Peeta stopped his rant to catch his breath, staring furiously at Cato who didn't even have the courtesy to look at him. He just continued to look over Peeta's shoulder.

"You forget I'm not the bag guy here."

"We're all bad guys to someone." Cato stated before his face fell completely, all the fight leaving his body as his body pulled in on itself like a child reprimanded. Then he started to walk away. "Looks like it's time for you to go."

Startled, Peeta turned to look behind him to find Haymitch standing by an open door to another black car. He stood watch with an unreadable expression on his face. Peeta swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth and turned back around to Cato, but he was already halfway down the street, almost to his home. It was a swift kick to the gut and he struggled to find his breath. A crushing pressure had enveloped his rib cage, squeezing in on his lungs and heart. It struggled to keep beating against the crushing of his spirit. Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and a strangled sob slipped from his lips before he pulled it together.

"Let's go home, Peeta," Haymitch said as he delicately guided Peeta back towards the car, arm over his shoulder in sympathy.

As Peeta watched the houses of Victors' Village sweep past in the car before they pulled out of sight, probably never to be seen by him again, he wondered where home truly laid. If not with Cato in District Two and not in District Twelve, where was Peeta meant to belong? Winning the Hunger Games was supposed to be the end of it, an endpoint he never even thought they'd reach, but now that they had, he found that it was really only the beginning of a much larger struggle. There was no home left to return to, only the forward march of progress and a wake of burning ruins behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's chapter 9. I apologize for the delay. I went out of town last weekend so I couldn't post it. And as a warning, I'm going camping this next weekend so I wont have internet access so expect chapter 10 to be posted sometime around the following Wednesday. **

**Thank you to those of you that reviewed! It means a lot to hear from you and I always appreciate it, even the ****fangirling ;).**

Ch. 9- Distractions

Time passed by without Peeta's notice. Days blurred to weeks, and weeks became months. Somewhere along the way he turned seventeen, but he kept that to himself. It wasn't something he needed to broadcast, especially after what he came home to. It was far worse returning home from the Tour than it had been to come back from the 74th Annual Hunger Games Peeta discovered. Before he had the naïve hope that the Victory Tour would change things—that the Capitol would change its colors and show leniency. It was foolish, but that's the thing about hope. No matter how bad things got, there was still that spot in the back of his brain where rationality had no say and wild fantasies flourished. But now that Peeta returned for the second time and his relationship worse for the wear, he found there was no strength or patience left for that foolish hope that Cato and he could have their happily ever after. Letting go might have been the easy part if he only knew how to go on after.

The return to District Twelve was a shock to the system. Over the course of the two weeks, Peeta had found great distraction in Cato and their vain plan to fool the Capitol. And so his homecoming was a reality check more like a slap to the face than a relief. The District had changed. The people were scarred by the brief clash with the Capitol and its quick and merciless counter-strike. It was like using a sledgehammer to nail a pushpin into drywall. A new and severe head Peacekeeper, Romulus, was sent to replace Cray. Machine gun outposts were installed on the tops of buildings in the town square along with whipping posts and gallows, which were put to quick use. The entire Wilshurn family had been publicly executed after Riece's actions at the Victory Tour ceremony. Riece was killed that night, shot in the head by a Peacekeeper as the catalyst for the unrest. Now Peacekeepers patrolled the streets at night with automatic rifles and there was to be no gatherings in public of more than four people at a time, while homes were only allowed to hold the total number of occupants that lived with in it and no more.

Fear and despair were rampant among District Twelve citizens. They were so used to being ignored and starved by the Capitol that their newfound interest in enforcing the law on them was enough to drive the tiny spark of rebellion from their eyes and lower their heads in surrender. If they couldn't stand up for themselves, how was Peeta supposed to stand tall for them in the face of the Capitol's fury? How was he supposed to move on from the death of a young boy when the blood was on his hands? He had volunteered to spare Riece—to give him the chance at life he never would have had if he were to enter the Hunger Games—only to find his life cut short less than a year later.

It was late on a Sunday morning and already unbearably hot. The month of June was known for dictating the season's weather and it was already packing quite the punch, signaling a long and hot summer was ahead of them. Peeta wanted to hide under the covers of his bed a little while longer in hopes of out sleeping his hangover, but the sweltering heat kept his sleep restless. The sheets were wet with his sweat and his unruly hair matted to his forehead. He thought back on the night before, how Haymitch and he fed off each other's misery and overindulged in white liquor. Now his stomach churned mercilessly like a mixing bowl beating his insides into mushy batter, and his head felt twice as large and heavy.

Suddenly the blinds were wrenched open and a voice was yelling at him to get up. The sheets were tugged clean off the bed and Peeta along with them.

"Ouch! What the hell?" Peeta barked from the floor, cradling the back of his head in one hand and shielding his eyes from the imperious sun with the other.

"Your breath smells like shit." Gale's firm voice spoke from somewhere above Peeta. When Peeta's eyes finally adjusted to the glare of the morning sun through his windows, he frowned at his intruder. Gale stood tall above him and was unmoved by the slanted eyes shot his way.

"It's time for this to end. This isn't you. So come on, up 'n at 'em."

Gale held out a hand for Peeta to grab hold of then he hauled him up. Peeta wobbled momentarily, unsteady on his two feet. It took a moment for the blood in his body to catch up with the quick rise of his head. Everything spun sickeningly and Peeta worried he might embarrass himself further and throw up on Gale's boots. Luckily the boots moved, and Gale returned from the bathroom with a glass of water.

"Drink this."

Peeta did so gladly. The cool water did wonders for his parched throat and helped lower his body temperature, which was obscenely high from the hangover and summer heat. Gale watched him thoughtfully the whole time—his thick brows twisted in contemplation of the mess of a boy before him—his jaw quirked to the side.

"Okay, c'mon now." Gale threw a change of clothes at him and marched towards the stairwell.

"What are we doing?" Peeta asked while hurriedly changing.

"I know people like you," Gale stated. "You take everything to heart and carry everyone's load, even when you don't have to." He kept his back to Peeta to give him privacy, which Peeta much appreciated. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of stripping in front of Gale was oddly disconcerting. He stumbled to put on the shorts as fast as possible, but then found he was swept up in what Gale had to say. "You take the blame, even when things are out of your control, and you have the biggest fucking martyr complex I've ever seen. You can't save everyone and even if you could you need to take care of yourself first, otherwise, what good are you? You need to snap out of this and the best way is to provide distraction. So we hunt—Are you done yet?" Gale asked sounding a little exasperated and he swiveled around to face Peeta.

Frozen mid-change, Peeta stood shocked by the words Gale spoke. One arm and head were through the holes of the shirt while the other dangled lifeless beside him. Peeta mouth hung slack from his jaw as he stared back at Gale's dangerously blue eyes. Gale took in the form before him before a smile cracked across his face like cement buckling from heat. His serious attitude was lost as he doubled over with snorts of laughter through his nostrils. Coming back to himself Peeta felt his cheeks flush and he quickly put his other arm through his shirt hiding the smooth flesh of his stomach.

"Sorry—sorry," Gale panted through breathy laughs. "You just looked like the exact impersonation of a deer I startled hunting last week."

Peeta huffed, tugging on a pair of brown leather boots like Gale's.

"Shut up. You surprised me is all." Peeta replied. "I just never thought of it that way. You're actually pretty smart, Gale Hawthorne."

Peeta checked Gale's shoulder as he passed by to the hallway. Gale's head crooked to the side and honed in on Peeta. He could still feel the eyes on him as he moved down the stairs.

"You coming?" He hollered over his shoulder. Peeta already felt better. It was like the words Gale spoke were the key to the lock inside his chest where all his broken emotions and self-destructive thoughts were stored, festering away at his soul. Now they were freed and Peeta no longer felt chained to them, unable to move from his bed or face the day. Gale was right, this wasn't him and he couldn't hide from life just because it got too hard. When had it ever been easy?

Gale caught up to him by the bottom step and then they raced through the streets of District Twelve to the outer fence. They moved quick and quietly, not wanting to draw any attention as they moved through the streets. Gale tested the fence before they both slipped through the weakened portion of the barrier and then hustled it towards the tree line. Once under the cover of the trees and their cooling shade, Gale offered Peeta some more water and jerky he'd made from a hunt a few weeks back. It satisfied his grumbling stomach and gave him permission to be silent while he munched. The heat was still fierce and it worked the hangover out of his system quickly through his sweat. Gale led the way through the woods with the satisfied confidence of a man who knew his way around the forest so intimately he could probably navigate it blindfolded.

The tree where Gale stashed his bow and arrows was maybe a five-minute walk from the edge of the forest. During that time Peeta took stock of the man he was following. He had shoulders almost as broad as Cato's, but a slimmer torso and athletic legs, ones built from years of running and hiking the mountains surrounding the district. His brown hair was almost always brushed off his forehead. He would probably deny it until the end of his days, but Peeta could tell he took the time to care for his appearance. He chuckled at that.

"What's so funny?" Gale asked. The silence finally broke.

"Just thinkin' to my self."

"Hm," Gale hummed. Digging in the trunk of a tree he pulled from within two carved wooden bows and quivers. He hefted one in his hand and a dark look passed over his blue eyes for a moment before he looked up at Peeta.

"This was Katniss's…" Gale said gently. He fingered the polished wood of the bow before holding it out to Peeta. It was smoothed from years of use. "I think she would have wanted you to have it."

He'd never used a bow before, but Katniss had made it look so effortless. Peeta studied the bow and quiver given to him by Gale breathlessly. The wood was cool to the touch and heavier than Peeta expected. Knowing Katniss made them with Gale—that the last time she used this bow with Gale she had no idea it would truly be her very last—was a weight he wasn't sure he could carry. It had so much symbolism that Peeta didn't feel right co-opting it. And even more so now that Gale wanted to pass it on to him. Gale must have known because before Peeta could back out he spoke.

"You know Katniss was terrible the first time she used a bow. I found her in the woods trying desperately to catch a squirrel with her bare hands to feed her family." Gale smiled fondly at the memory, his eyes glossed over staring at the bow then to Peeta's face. "She was prepared to fight me. She was always quick to judge—and usually right—but I managed to convince her I wanted to help. Soon after that, we spent almost every afternoon out here. Making these bows," Gale held up his darker wooden bow, twirling it in his hand. "Learning to hunt. She was quick to learn. You'd never have known how bad she was at first seeing how she used it in the games."

Gale began to walk and so Peeta followed in step just beside him. He was fascinated by Gale's words. He had barely scratched the surface of her character before she was lost to him and now hearing Gale share such intimate stories about her with him—well it was like a second chance at getting to know her. And now that he had her bow, it was like she was still with him. He could—they could never forget her. Never would.

"She had a tough exterior," Gale continued as they hiked on, where to Peeta didn't know. "But beneath it all she was a big softie. We came across an injured fawn two summers ago and I wanted to end its misery and sell it at the Hob, but she wouldn't let me. Just like her sister, they both have a huge heart filled with compassion for the weak and defenseless. She patched its leg and we spent the next week or so nursing it back to health."

As he talked, Peeta studied the relaxed look that spread over his face. It was like watching the tide wash away all the detritus and pain that had built up in the lines of his face, leaving behind a man content with life. Gale happened a glance at Peeta. His look was indistinguishable and Peeta wondered, _was I the injured fawn and Gale now felt it was his turn to nurse something back to health?_

"She took it upon herself to protect me." Peeta blurted out. He wanted to offer something to the conversation. Give Gale what he got in return. "She took on the brute from 4, Stasson, when he was picking on me. She wanted to divert as much attention away from me before we got to the arena. To help alleviate the large bulls-eye that targeted my back. I just wish I could have done the same for her."

They halted their journey now at the edge of the forest and stood on an outcropping of stone over a vast valley. It stretched out in an endless expanse of dark evergreens and jagged rocks. A river slashed through the scenery, flowing endlessly south and Peeta wondered where it all ended. Was safety to be found there, or did the Capitol's reach stretch to the ends of the rivers and lakes, oceans and mountains? Was anything truly safe?

Gale set down his bow and pulled out more jerky, offering some to Peeta as he sat back against the rocks and studied the landscape before him.

"You two are more alike than you realize." Gale spoke softly now, like he were sharing secrets not his to tell. "Every day I see so many of the qualities I loved about her in you, Peeta. At first glance, it might be easy to overlook you both, but beneath the surface there's so much more. You're both unflinching in the face of adversity. Neither of you are willing to give up on those you care for. It's the reason people are so drawn to you." Gale paused, chewing on a piece of jerky before swallowing and turning to look at Peeta. He seemed humbled by the words he spoke. "It's what I admire about you so much."

If someone had told Peeta he'd find himself here, in this situation, back before the Victory Tour, back before Darius, Peeta would have called them mad. But now he couldn't imagine not having Gale as a friend. They leaned on each other in ways they couldn't with anyone else. They were equals in their grief over Katniss and neither of them had to put up a front or hide it. Peeta held the bow close to his lap, imagining he could almost feel Katniss holding him back through it.

"Thank you. That means a—a lot coming from you."

"S'the truth." Gale shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. He stood on jittery legs. "Now lets teach you how to use that bow."

Peeta gulped. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. Could he ever do justice to Katniss's bow? It was a high standard to live up to, but Gale wouldn't have any of his hesitancy. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the woods practicing. Peeta was terrible at first, but Gale refused to give up. Everything took time and he knew Peeta had it in him, based off his ability with the spear during the games. Gale set up targets for Peeta, and then helped guide him through how to use the bow. Gale even managed to catch a few squirrels to bring home to his family that evening. It was one of the most pleasant days Peeta had in months, but the standard was pretty low. For the slightest moment, he was even able to forget where he was, who he was. There was no Capitol, no boy on fire or impending uprising. He was just a guy passing the time with a good friend.

The next few weeks whittled away in the same fashion. Whenever Gale had a free moment, it was spent with Peeta helping keep him focused on the positive. Every Sunday was spent out in the forest learning to use the bow and hunting. Peeta grew in proficiency with Katniss's bow, and he found time actually moved by faster than he wanted it to on those hot afternoons in the forest. He was always sad when their Sundays in the woods had to end, because it meant the fantasy was over and Peeta had to go back to his lonesome home while Gale worked a grueling week at the mines. He tried to stay busy, visiting with Primrose or Haymitch and ,on occasion, the bakery. But only when he knew it was likely to be staffed by only his father.

Alas, things were not getting any better with Cato. The frequency of their phone conversations continued to decline from every night to about three times a week now. Peeta wasn't even sure when to expect a call from Cato anymore, and it only made it that much harder to sit around waiting for a call that might never come. So when they did, Peeta found he had little patience left for Cato. Everything was different now with no Victory Tour to look forward to.

The phone rang at 7:24 on a Thursday evening. It had been three days since their last conversation. Peeta was sketching in a notepad a picture of the valley Gale and he often trekked too for lunch on their Sundays when the phone rang, shattering the peaceful quiet. Peeta waited to pick the phone up until the last ring.

"Yes?" He answered curtly.

There was a sudden intake of breath on the other end of the crackling line then a moment's pause.

"Peeta?" Cato's voice asked.

"Who else?"

"Sorry, you just sounded different."

Peeta could just imagine him on the other end of the line with the confused pout on his face. Peeta twisted the cord of the phone in his hand, his eyes ill at ease and roaming the walls of the kitchen.

"Well I'm just a little busy right now."

"Oh, I can call back later then…"

"No, don't bother. We can talk now. It's not like I can trust you to call back anytime soon."

Peeta couldn't understand why he was being so combative. He should be thrilled at the chance to even talk with Cato. The fact that they could even call each other was more than most could ask for in their situation, which wasn't many. Everything was strained between them anymore. Even the simplest of conversations carried an undercurrent of resentment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cato bristled, quickly joining Peeta's emotionally volatile state.

"What do you think, Cato?" Peeta released a pent up sigh. He crushed his eyes closed and tried to imagine that he was really with Cato, that they were together and having this conversation in person. But then every time Cato spoke he was reminded how far apart they were by the static crackle of the phone line.

"I just don't know what to do anymore. You haven't called me in three days and I've lost all consistency with you. I don't know when to expect your call anymore, and I can't just sit and wait by the phone every day, anxious for a call that may not even come. Do you know how much that hurts? How exhausting it is?"

Peeta felt on the verge of tears. The phone cord was now wrapped in knots around his hand and he could feel the bark of his ring cutting into his finger. He hadn't meant at all for the conversation to take this turn, but he couldn't stop himself. It needed to be said, because it really was unfair. Cato blamed him for how it all ended on the Victory Tour, he knew it, and Peeta couldn't stand it any longer.

"DO YOU—" Cato cut off and Peeta heard the loud crack of something breaking. Peeta was ready for more shouting and he could feel the blood pumping fast through his veins, readying for a fight. Cato breathed furiously on the other end before suddenly reigning it all back under control. "I don't know how to fix this, Peeta. I—I'm sorry."

All the fight left Peeta's body at those strangled words. The heat dissipated from his blood and his heart rate fell back to a normal pace.

"I don't either. I think—I think we should just try again tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, tomorrow…" Cato responded flat on the other end. "Bye, Peeta."

He hung up and the line clicked dead as Peeta said, "Bye Cato potato."

Sitting at the kitchen table, Peeta furiously pulled the tangled cord from his hand. It was in a knotted mess that Peeta just couldn't seem to unravel. The loops of the cord were too complicated to disentangle and Peeta just slammed the phone back into its base, giving up. What more could he do? He tried to go back to his art, but found he had lost his appetite for drawing. Instead he packed it in early that night and went to bed. The handcrafted ring heavy on his finger like a rock, a constant reminder of what he didn't have. At least if he was asleep he wouldn't have to listen to that voice in his head that told him he was fucking everything up.

The following Monday, Peeta was awakened by the monotonous ring of his doorbell. Pulling on a pair of shorts and a fresh t-shirt, Peeta made his way downstairs. He wasn't expecting anyone so he ran though the people in his head that might be paying him a visit. Gale was at work, Prim at school. It was way to early for Haymitch to be up and his father should be at the bakery.

It turned out to be someone he hadn't been expecting to see again until the Capitol.

"Portia! What are you doing here?" Peeta exclaimed. He pulled her quickly through the door for a hug. She laughed and as he pulled back he saw the men carrying two large trunks behind her. He looked at her questioningly for a response.

"It's good to see you, Peeta." She smiled down on him. Her heels made her slightly taller than Peeta, but he didn't mind the difference. "I managed to wrangle the honor of being your wedding designer. They gave me permission to come see you for some fittings, we have plenty of outfits to choose from, but only the perfect one will do for your perfect day!"

Peeta couldn't help but feel a swelling of excitement along with Portia. Even if things were rocky between him and Cato at the moment, he knew their day would be something special now that Portia had a hand in it. Nothing could go wrong with it now, and the Capitol even seemed to be supporting her efforts. It was now to be a televised event at the Capitol before the Quarter Quell began and Peeta hoped this meant they would at least let the newlyweds spend the rest of their time together in the Capitol until the games were over.

"Come now, lets get you showered and while you do that I'll set up in your bedroom."

Peeta spent the rest of the afternoon trying on different variations of tuxedos. Some were simple and elegant while others veered drastically into the outlandish. But nothing seemed to be moving Portia. Each time he tried on a new outfit, she would analyze it with a critically narrowed eye and then huff, telling him to take it off.

He was now wearing a flame red cape with an iridescent orange suit and knee high black boots with red stitching. It was by far the worst thing he had ever laid eyes on. Portia agreed.

"What are you looking for exactly?" Peeta asked, wanting to get an idea for what she was feeling for him. She paused from plucking out garments from the clothes racks she had set up and turned back to face him.

"I'm trying to put something together in my head. I needed to see you because it just wasn't coming to me on paper," She explained. She moved forward and stalked around him. "I want it to be epic. I want it to be something we haven't seen before. It needs to _inspire._"

Peeta cocked his head at that. She spoke the word inspire in a peculiar way. He took a closer look at her and wondered what he was missing. This wasn't just an ordinary wedding tuxedo she was putting together. It seemed to stand for something more, but he couldn't figure out what the end goal was that Portia was working towards. In the end she packed everything back up without a decision having been made on what he would wear, but Peeta saw the inspiration twinkling behind her caramel eyes. She had a plan now.

"Will you stay for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, Peeta, but they only allowed me to be here for the day. The train leaves in fifteen, if I don't go now I'll be late."

Peeta nodded. He understood. There was nothing she could do, not when it came to the Capitol's demands. She brought a golden-polished nail to his chin and aligned his eyes with her.

"Don't be so down, Peeta." She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're the light in a ruthless dark, people are drawn to it, even if to catch but a momentary flicker of your warmth. You're never as alone as you think."

The beginnings of a true smile wormed its way onto Peeta's face. Portia always had a way of making Peeta feel comforted. Soon after Portia left, Peeta heard his television turn on in the other room. He knew that meant a mandatory announcement was about to be made. He moved his way in there to see Caesar Flickerman sitting at his desk with his trademark million dollar smile.

"This is a customary announcement that tomorrow night at 7pm is mandatory TV viewing. Thank you and I shall see you all then!"

The television went black and Peeta was left with a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. Something about that didn't sit well with him. Caesar was never the one to make those sorts of announcements. Not unless it was something especially big.

And so for the whole next day, worry ate away at him like a slow acting acid, gradually wearing down his defenses until he was a jittering mess. A little before seven, Primrose and her mom, Haymitch, Gale and—thoughtfully—his father showed up.

"You didn't have to come, I know mom probably didn't approve."

His father's portly frame jostled with a small laugh in the pit of his chest. He put a hand on Peeta's shoulder then paused, the air growing awkward before he peeled it back to his side.

"She can't keep me from seeing my son."

Peeta felt a smidge better after that and reached back out to pat his father's arm. It was just as awkward when he did it. They didn't know how to be family, but it was baby steps.

Prim's expectant olive eyes popped up by Peeta's shoulder and he was then forcibly drawn to the couch. He made an effort to greet Mrs. Everdeen and Haymitch as Prim guided him on by them.

"I think it's going to be about your wedding. Haymitch told me Portia came by yesterday to do your fitting. You have to tell me what you'll be wearing! Portia does the best fashion."

Prim exclaimed this in a bubbly fashion and for a moment Peeta really did believe that was what it would be about. But then the television flickered to life of its own accord and Peeta fell against the cushions between Prim and Gale, suddenly fearful.

Caesar was behind his desk where he usually reported the tributes' rankings. He wore a powdered beige wig with matching shirt and tie. The sleeves were puffed and the collar frilled. It was very unflattering.

"Good evening to the citizens of Panem. I have some very exciting business for you all," Caesar looked the image of a cracked out squirrel he was so excited. He handled a large cream envelope in his hands delicately. "In my hand here I hold the official rules for this years 75th Annual Hunger Games and 3rd Quarter Quell." He paused for effect. "As most of you know, the Quarter Quell is a very special version of the Hunger Games that is to take place every 25 years. These are to be special pageants meant to be larger and grander than the others in memory to the dark days that preceded them. The Rules have all been created back at the inception of the Games and locked away for safe keeping, only to be read at such time as when it is to occur."

Peeta thought that had to be a lie. But he didn't dwell on it because suddenly Caesar was tearing into the envelope and reading it with greedy eyes, just as desperate no doubt as the rest of the Capitol was to know what sick devices the Gamemakers would inflict on the District's children this year.

"Oh my. Well isn't this a twist."

Peeta really wished he would just read it. Gale's leg jostled up and down next to him and it shook the couch. Peeta placed a hand on his thigh to still it, the movements only working to build his anxiety further. Gale tensed and threw a look at Peeta before mouthing 'sorry'.

"For this years 3rd Quarter Quell the rules state: all tributes shall be chosen from the existing pool of Victors…" He gave a pause to let that sink in. "Isn't that—well, isn't that _something_?"

Even Caesar seemed at a loss for words. But he could have started speaking in gibberish and had a seizure before the camera and Peeta wouldn't have notice because he was already sprinting from the room. People may have shouted his name, but all he could hear was the tidal wave of blood crashing through his ears and his thunderous heartbeat. It felt like it was beating in his throat and each pump of the heart was a punch to his gag reflex.

He didn't stop running until he was at the far uninhabited end of Victor Row where he fell into the manicured lawn and vomited.

_This can't be happening. Not again. They want to send me back. I can't, I can't go back._

Peeta knew this was punishment for his actions. There was no way this was pre-written. There were only two Victors from District 12 and chances where fifty-fifty that he would be going back in. There was no way he could win it a second time. _Oh god, Cato_! It hit Peeta that he wouldn't even know if Cato was chosen until it was too late to do anything. Peeta rolled onto his back and the vomit. Then he unleashed a scream so powerful and so deep from his chest that it felt like it tore his insides out with it.

When he opened his eyes he saw Gale crouched over him with a serious look on his face.

"Promise me you won't go back." He demanded. His voice was as strained as if he had unleashed the scream and as hard as the rock unpleasantly wedged between Peeta's shoulder blades.

"W-what?"

"Promise me that if Haymitch is chosen you won't volunteer and that you won't stop him from taking your place if you're chosen. _Promise me_, Peeta!" He shouted the last part and it startled Peeta back into the present. He felt like shit for having run out on them. He wasn't the only one going through this, they all had to suffer through it too if he went back in and Haymitch was just as much a victim as he was, if not more since this would be his _second_ Quarter Quell.

"I—I don't understand why you're asking this," Peeta spoke. He still looked up at Gale perched over him like a worried mother bird standing guard over its hatchling.

"Because Peeta!" Gale stood up suddenly and the difference in height between them with Peeta on the ground was staggering so he sat up, disgusted by the vomit stuck in his hair. "Because I care what happens to you and I can't lose you, not you too! Not you too…"

It was then that Peeta realized how deeply Gale cared for him. Things had changed drastically between them since he first returned from the Games and Peeta now felt like he finally had a view inside the hard surfaced Gale. It was all laid bare before him, and the loss of Katniss still ached fiercely like a fresh wound. Peeta pushed himself up and looked into Gale's frenetic blue eyes. He could see all the fear and hurt and confusion that stormed inside them like they were his too. Because they were his.

"I p-promise I won't volunteer if Haymitch is chosen." The thought then crossed Peeta's mind of who would take the girl's slot, but it was brushed from his mind as Gale pulled him in to a bruising hug.

"Thank you," He breathed a sigh of relief over Peeta's shoulder and hugged just a little tighter. An odd electric current suddenly coursed through Peeta's body. It felt strongest at his heart and then shot out through the rest of his body like static electricity before dissipating through his fingers and toes. It was there and gone in a second and Peeta was left to question whether he really felt it or it was just his mind playing tricks.

Then they headed back to Peeta's house. It was going to be a long and sleepless night, but he knew he had family and friends to get him through it now. He was no longer the lonely boy he used to be—he finally had something worth living for, he wasn't about to lose it all now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again my lovely readers! I am back from my trip (which was amazing and life changing if you wished to know. Also exhausting.) But now I am ready to drop on you a new chapter. I like this one and hope you do too! For those of you still reviewing you make my day, week, and month every time I hear from you! Thanks again!**

Ch. 10 – The Enemy

The arrow sunk deep into the bark of the tree with a satisfying thump. Peeta's aim had improved tremendously over the past weeks of practice in the woods. Peeta restrung and fired off two more arrows in quick succession. They each landed within the markings of the target on the thick trunk of the tree some twenty feet away, but he would never have the accuracy or aptitude that came naturally to Katniss. That didn't mean he wasn't proficient, and his confidence grew with each arrow he shot successfully into the imaginary heart of his enemies. The safety of distance provided by a bow and arrow was a comfort Peeta had not felt while working with close-combat weapons like spears and swords in his first Hunger Games.

Peeta and Gale's weekly Sunday hunts had transformed since the Quarter Quell announcement. They no longer held the easy air of a distraction from the troubles that swarmed Peeta back in 12. Now they were filled with a tenseness that kept both of them on edge throughout their Sunday excursions. Gale had subtly tweaked the format into an unofficial training boot camp. Just in case. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but that was the reasoning behind it. Just in case he was sent back, just in case he had to fight for his life again in an arena with twenty-three other trained and deadly killers.

The best thing about their time in the woods together was that they could speak freely. They never had to worry about being overheard or spied on by the Capitol, and thus could voice whatever opinions they had on taboo subject matters. Peeta learned a lot about Gale that way. And surprisingly himself.

"Do you think there's something more after we die?" Gale had asked one day while they were whittling new arrows. Gale made sure Peeta understood every facet of how a bow was made, so he would be able to better work it as a whole and, if necessary, although gone unsaid, he could make one from scratch in the Arena.

Peeta's knife stalled on its downward slice against the wood he was shaping as he lifted his head to look at Gale thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Peeta studied Gale. He was chewing the inside of his cheek and avoiding eye contact. The air was hot and muggy, hanging like a damp rag against their skin. A drop of sweat trailed from Gale's forehead down over his nose. He had a smudge of dirt on it, and Peeta wondered if he knew it was there. If he should reach out and brush it off.

"Like a life after this, some place where all those who have died gather, some place _better_…" He said the last part wistfully and it refocused Peeta's gaze back on Gale's eyes. They were a somber blue, like the water of a lake on a grey and stormy day, churning with tumultuous thoughts.

"I—" Peeta looked up then back at Gale with a shrug, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "I don't know. Maybe? Are we talking about religion?"

Religion was a word he'd heard in passing once. It was whispered between two kids at school conspiratorially, like they knew something others didn't and it was theirs to know. He had asked his mother later that day only to get a beating. There was no such thing as religion or God. It was outlawed.

"No, not really." Gale picked at the dirt under his fingers with the blade of his knife. "I know people used to believe at one time there was a God or something. It all seems far-fetched to me. But I can't help but wonder sometimes if this is all there is. If so, it just seems so fucking unjust."

Peeta knew what he meant. There couldn't be something like a higher power, some omnipotent being that created them and watched over them, because if there was, it was a sadistic God and not worthy of anyone's worship.

"I just feel like there should be a reward for all of this." Gale motioned around with a jerk of the arm holding the knife.

It really didn't need any further explanation. Peeta got it. He wondered if when their eyes closed for that final time would they awaken on the other side to something better. All the loved ones they'd lost waiting patiently to be reunited and live in peace for all eternity. It was a beautiful thought, but not something Peeta wished to pin his hopes on. Reality was more important. One couldn't get lost thinking about what if's of what might happen when they die, because it didn't matter. Once they died that was it, it was over for them here and _here_ was where it mattered. Here in the now was were they lived, even if it was through suffering, and they had to make that work because there might not be a chance on the other side. To hang up their hopes on that was a foolish misuse of the life given to them.

"You make your own rewards." Peeta forced the knife down against the grain of the wood and a large chip of wood shaved off in one clean swipe. "You can't wait for it to get better, you make it better yourself."

Gale studied Peeta closely and it unnerved him to the point that the knife slipped from the wood and nicked his leg. Blood, thick and red, welled to the surface of the skin and Peeta was reminded of all the blood he'd seen spilled in the Games. Of all the lives that had been lost, and the ones he had taken and he unleashed a muffled moan. Gale jumped from his spot to Peeta, a piece of cloth already torn from the sleeve of his shirt to press against Peeta's cut calf. A breeze worked its way through the trees and cooled their overheated bodies.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up."

"No, it's okay. It really is."

Peeta watched Gale wrap the cloth around his leg and couldn't help, but notice the smudge of dirt at such a close range. He reached out and wiped it off with the pad of his thumb. It glided over the sweat-slicked skin of his nose in one smooth motion, the dirt coming clean off. Gale gazed at him critically, but said nothing.

"Maybe we should head back now…"

"Yeah, okay." Gale agreed and cleared his throat. He stood and offered a hand to pull Peeta up with him.

And now Peeta took to the woods by himself in the afternoon to practice alone since Gale could only come with him on Sundays. It felt like a private lesson with Katniss as he used her bow and she guided him through each shot. Even though he had made a promise to Gale that he wouldn't volunteer to go back in, he still couldn't knock the feeling that it wasn't going to work out that way. The Capitol had plans and Peeta was sure the 'boy on fire' factored into them greatly.

Worry was now a constant presence in Peeta's life. Worry over the future and the safety of his loved ones. Worry over the outcome of the reaping and worry over the future of Panem. And now worry was beginning to build over himself. Some days, like today, he felt off. There wasn't any one feeling he could pinpoint as to being different, but something deep within him didn't sit right and he couldn't place it. He caught himself zoning out every now and then, and when he tried to think back on what he had been doing he couldn't quite remember. It was nothing serious, but it was frustrating when it happened because he knew he had been doing something, but now the memory was lost. It was like it was trapped beneath the water's surface and whenever Peeta tried to look at it too closely, the ripples of the water distorted the image and hid it from view.

The sun was a little more than halfway across the sky meaning it was mid-afternoon and the hottest part of the day. Sweat rolled down Peeta's back and his blue t-shirt looked tie-died with blotches of sweat darkening the material. He needed to head back now if he wanted to make it in time for supper with the Everdeen's. He had trekked far into the woods today and it would take more than an hour to get back. And in this heat, it wasn't going to be pleasant or easy.

As he ripped the arrows from the tree bark and put them back in his quiver, he heard a faint rustling of dried leaves. Something was trudging through the forest and displacing the sun scorched leaves. It might be a deer—sounded big enough—so Peeta pulled an arrow free and took aim, moving cautiously forward towards the sound. He moved, ready to fire as he came around a large pine tree when he froze face-to-face with two Peacekeepers.

His heart did a violent back flip. How had they found him? They were sure to punish him for being caught breaking the biggest rule in 12, not to cross the fence. He was steeling himself for a fight when the smaller of the two Peacekeepers screeched in fear and moved behind the larger one. The older of the two women was astonished. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth gaping before she fumbled with the inside of her pocket.

"Don't move or I'll shoot!" Peeta warned, fearful she would draw a gun on him and his advantage would be lost. But then she did something completely unexpected.

"D-don't! Please!" She begged and pulled from her pocket a broken cracker piece. She held it out to him with a trembling open palm.

Confused, Peeta hesitated. The drawn bow and arrow strained in the ready position as he stepped forward for a closer look at the odd cracker. Embedded in the center of it was a design. It didn't make sense to be there and even less sense that she was presenting it to him as her defense. It was the image of a Mockingjay.

"What is that?"

"We're on your side! It's your symbol. The Mockingjay." The woman said. Her voice was scratchy and parched.

His arm slowly relaxed and the bow lowered to his side. Peeta finally took the time to take a second look at the two women. Now that he thought about it they looked nothing like Peacekeepers. The younger girl was in the white garments of a peacekeeper twice her size; even the shoes were ill fitting. Both of their costumes were marred with dirt and tattered around their feet, like they had been hiking through the wilderness for days.

"You're not Peacekeepers, are you?"

"No!" The younger girl piped up. She looked close in age to Peeta with wild black hair and dark ebony skin. The other one looked to be similar in age to Haymitch with piercing green eyes.

"We're from District 8! We ran away." The older one explained now that Peeta wasn't pointing an arrow in her face. "I'm Twill, this is Bonnie."

"There was a rebellion." Peeta stated, suddenly remembering that night back in Two when he was in the Mayor's office.

"Yes! How'd you know?" Bonnie asked.

"He's the Mockingjay, of course he knows." Twill said.

"The mockingjay?" Peeta asked, confused. They recognized him, of course. But he had never been referred to as that. It was always the boy on fire.

"Yes, you've become the symbol for the rebellion. If you wish to signify to others you're part of it you show the mockingjay." Twill motioned with the cracker again before safely storing it in her pocket.

"You're not being followed?" He asked, worried. He knew what happened if one of the hovercrafts found them. They'd be killed or mutilated and made into an Avox.

"No, no. We've been out here for weeks. You're the first person we've seen. I can't believe it, Peeta Mellark!" Twill said with a shake of the head.

Peeta suddenly realized that this was his chance to learn more about what was happening elsewhere. What was the outcome of the uprising in Eight? Where were they going? Were more joining the fight? Any ideas of an uprising had been stalled in District Twelve since the riot after the Victory Tour. He motioned for them to sit and then pulled out a bottle of water, crackers and cheese he had brought with him as a snack. The girls sat with him, huddled together and devoured the offered nourishment gladly.

"We worked at one of the factories that made peacekeeper uniforms in Eight," Twill explained around a mouthful of cheese. "Everyone thinks we died in the factory explosion, it's only sheer luck we weren't. We had to get out of there. It was too dangerous."

She explained how discontent had been growing ever since Peeta's actions in the Games. He gave them hope that they could fight the Capitol. That it wasn't all-powerful if a boy could change the rules of the game and stand up to them. That's when the wishful thinking of rebellion turned into a reality. The factories were a perfect place to for word to pass safely as the loud machinery hid their whispered plans. Twill worked for a month to steal the necessary pieces for of the uniform. Originally it was to be her and her husband that left, going to spread the word of an uprising.

They used the Victory Tour as a practice of sorts and then the night of Peeta's engagement, when it was mandatory viewing and they had an excuse to be outside the uprising started. They secured weapons and most peacekeeper strongholds, overwhelming them in surprise. But then the Capitol pushed back hard. Thousands of troops overran them and bombs rained down non-stop. Bonnie's whole family died and so did Twill's husband. They barely escaped in the chaos.

He couldn't believe it. He hadn't thought much of their uprising that he saw in the Mayor's office since. So much else had happened and he got distracted, their attempt at an uprising quickly flushed from his mind. But he had held out hope that maybe they succeeded; maybe they found a way to beat the odds. It was enormously disheartening to know they were crushed in two days.

"You're out. So what are you going to do now?"

They were a long way from Eight, that was for sure.

"We're headed to District 13." Twill chipped in.

"But that was destroyed. There's nothing left. We've all seen the footage on TV." Peeta stated in disbelief. Why on earth would they want to go there? It was still toxic and uninhabitable. They'd be better off making a go of it in the woods.

"Yes, but it's the same footage! Over and over!" Twill explained anxiously. "If you look closely you can see the same mockingjay fly by on the screen. There's life there I know it. They're hiding something and they just don't want us to think it's safe to go back there."

It was a wild idea, and Peeta couldn't help but be tempted by it. But it was too much to pin their hopes on, that the Capitol would let Thirteen survive. The girls tried to convince him its possible, that they were left alone because of Thirteen's nuclear capabilities, but Peeta couldn't allow his heart to be swept away by such notions. If there was a District Thirteen, what were they waiting for?

Peeta bid them goodbye and left them with all the food he had brought with him for the day. The girls seemed in much better spirits now that they had the chance to meet the boy on fire—or, he guessed, The Mockingjay. It was weird to think how much he meant to people. But even more, Peeta realized Snow had played him. There was no way he could have tamed the rising spirits of the Districts during his Tour. He may have provided the spark of fire, but the fuse was already there and willing and once lit he could never have stopped it.

Thoughts of the possibility of District Thirteen and war swirled through Peeta's mind as he trudged back to the weak spot in the fence. He stashed the bow in the same spot he always left it, next to Gale's, and then moved cautiously and quickly towards the fence. The sun was setting and the air was finally cooling. Peeta was drenched in sweat and would need to change before going to the Everdeen's for dinner. Thankfully, his ears picked up the odd vibrating sound before it was too late otherwise his preoccupied mind might have never noticed the fence was electrified.

Peeta's head snapped up. He searched the length of the fence with a frown for the cause of the noise before picking up a stick and chucking it at the chain-links. The piece of wood hit the fence and a sharp zap followed by a small explosion of sparks and smoke. Shit.

Peeta raced to the right of the fence, looking desperately for a way over. Why was the fence on? This never happened and Peeta didn't have an alternative way over if he couldn't peel back the weak spot of the fence and climb through. He couldn't linger on the other side of the fence for too long, or someone might pass by and see. Finally, he spotted in the distance a tree that grew close enough to the fence that he might be able to jump over it. It was going to be risky, but he didn't have another option and there was little time. If the electricity was on, they probably knew Peeta was out here and they were sending a message.

At the base of the large oak tree, Peeta struggled to pull himself up to the nearest branch, some five feet above his head. He used the knobs and small growths of the trunk of the tree to work his way up until he was able to get his arms around the branch. Then he lifted the rest of his body up. He needed to climb a few more branches up until he was level with the top of the fence. Peeta pressed down with his foot against the branch, testing it for its sturdiness. It was a good fifteen-foot drop to the other side and he didn't want the limb to break before he was across the fence.

Slow and steady he went, working with small shuffling steps across the tree limb, using the ones above him to keep him steady. The buzzing of the electricity that flowed through the fence crackled and snapped like it anticipated his failure and was hungry for his flesh. The branch began to bend down towards the fence the further out he got. Soon after he passed over the dividing line of the fence, the branch groaned from his weight. He didn't have much time, but the drop was daunting. He would definitely hurt himself if he didn't do this right. He dropped to his knees and then swung his legs over the edge and twisted so he could grab with both arms and dangle from the branch down towards the ground. That cut the fall by a little, but it still seemed to far.

"Okay, you got this," Peeta talked himself up. "Just tuck and roll. One, two, three…"

He hung on a little longer, his resolve wavering before he heard a snap and knew time was up so he let go and fell. The contents of his stomach rushed up his throat and his legs impacted the dirt with a jarring force that rocked up to the roots of his teeth. He tried to tuck in and roll with the landing, but his right foot still bore the brunt of an awkward landing and something twisted. A sharp pain flared up his right calf like tiny wires laced the skin and pulled tight, strangling the muscle and lancing the skin.

"Fuck!" Peeta groaned and rolled onto his back, his knee bent towards his chest and his hands holding his ankle.

He remained there for another few moments catching his breath and waiting for the searing pain to dissipate before he moved.

"Oh my sweet, sweet Peeta."

A voice spoke, breaking the silence of the humid evening air. The voice raised the hair on the back of Peeta's neck and stuck a chord of fear in his heart. It wasn't real. He couldn't be here.

Except when Peeta opened his eyes and looked to his left there he stood. His harsh face and scrutinizing eyes remained the same, but his beard was trimmed and his hair had been buzzed. It was Darius.

"Didn't expect to see me again, did you?" He smiled, and Peeta shuddered at the memory of that hungry smile.

"What are you doing here?" Peeta demanded, but he didn't really need an answer. He saw the Peacekeeper clothes that he wore and knew he was reinstated.

He pushed himself up and stood on both feet, biting back the pain he felt in his sore right ankle. He couldn't allow Darius to see he was injured.

"I'm glad to see the Capitol patched you right as rain. I just couldn't stand myself thinking I had hurt you," Darius spoke conversationally like he was catching up with an old friend. "But you know you hurt me too."

Suddenly, Darius' eyes sharpened and the smile fell from his face. He moved forward with a predatory nature and Peeta stepped back only to remember the electrified fence behind him. He was trapped. His eyes kept flicking to the gun in the holster of Darius' belt.

"Now that I'm back I'd like to try this again."

"You're a psychopath and there's nothing further we have to do with each other," said Peeta. He held his head high and refused to back down, even though he was terrified on the inside. "You lied to me and lured me to your place on false pretenses, then took me hostage and shot me. You don't get to _try again_."

"So say you, Peeta. But…" Darius came to stop mere inches from Peeta and took in a deep breath. Peeta fell away from him with disgust, but Darius's hand flung out like lightning to restrain his left arm in a vice like grip. "I _will_ finish what I started. Because like you told me that night, I'm mad—mad about you and I WILL have you."

Peeta twisted and tore his arm free before stumbling back a few paces from Darius. He swallowed down the fear in his throat and kept his eyes glued to the enemy. Darius plastered on his carnivorous smile and gave a facetious salute before slipping between the clustered shacks of the Seam and out of sight. Peeta finally released the breath he had been holding since Darius took hold of his arm.

The sound of shattering glass like a million pennies scattered across the floor woke him in the early hours of dawn. He shot up in bed, knife at the ready, his mind steeling itself for bloodshed. Cato had taken to sleeping with a knife ever since the Games. He just didn't feel safe without a weapon at the ready at all times, even in his bed. Life after the Games was like a life in constant withdrawal from morphling, twitchy and paranoid and frantically desperate—although for what he wasn't quite sure.

The knife under his pillow didn't seem so paranoid now as he crept down the stairs of his home. His pulse beat like a hammer through the main artery of his neck and sweat trickled down his back. His eyes swept from corner to darkened shadow, ready and waiting for an attack. It never came. Instead, he found a cinderblock atop his kitchen table and shattered bits of glass streaked across the floor like glittering diamonds. He sighed and sat the knife down on the table, now going to the pantry closet for a broom to sweep up the mess. Things had deteriorated in Two for Cato since the Victory Tour and faster still now that the Quarter Quell had announced old victors would be chosen as tributes. The nasty glares had turned to nasty words. Some shop owners refused to accept his business and often times Cato stayed shut in his home brooding and cursing the fates for such a sore deal. Worse still was the brick wall Peeta and he had hit in their relationship, but that was something he didn't want to think about. He knew that was something he fucked up all on his own and he didn't know how to rectify it from a thousand miles away.

By the time the room was cleaned of the treacherous bits of glass, the rest of Two was awake and beginning their day. The sun remained hidden behind a thick layer of clouds the color of deep purple bruises. The day seemed all too happy to join in and reflect in Cato's battered mood. There had been a note attached to the brick, which he refused to read on principle, and Cato wondered if this was only the first in the beginnings of a campaign to harass him back into the Quarter Quell, where his luck would surely run out.

The chiming of his clock alerted him that it was nine o'clock. He was supposed to walk his sister to school. He made sure never to miss it, even on days like today where all he wanted to do was lock himself away from the world or maybe break things. The ornate knob on the staircase banister tore off in his hand when he pulled his body up the steps in a hurry with brute force and he decided that yes, today was a day he'd like to break things. He chucked the knob from his sight and hustled the rest of the way up to throw on a rain cloak and some shorts then made for his sister's. His father was already waiting at the door with Cassadine, a dissatisfied look resting on his wide face like he expected nothing less than his son to shirk his responsibilities to his impressionable sister. But Cassy couldn't have cared less, blowing a kiss to her father and taking Cato's much larger hand in hers as she skipped off down the street, tugging him along.

"Did you talk to Peeta last night?" She asked with an expectant look that she could have only learned from their father. It was a look that said she already knew the answer and was disappointed by it.

"No…"

"But Catooo," She dragged his name out in the way only kids can, seeming to make the word endless in length. "If you never talk to him talk to him then you'll never fix anything!"

Cassy was a big proponent of their relationship. She was immediately taken with Peeta upon first meeting him and so each morning on their daily walks she made sure to remind him how stupid she thought he was being. And so she was utterly exasperated with him. It warmed his heart that she cared so much, but it wasn't enough to fight the cold that built like an encroaching winter in his chest, bitter and harsh, killing even the most hopefully persistent of weeds. Everything seemed lost to him anymore.

"I know that Cassy, but things are complicated. You wouldn't understand." Things like how he couldn't stop from blaming Peeta for this mess even though he knew it was undeserved and he was taking it out on the one person that knew exactly what he was going through. How he felt like something was happening, that Peeta was changing, leaving things out—on purpose—and he didn't know what.

Cassy suddenly wrenched her hand free of his and came to a halt in the street. The bruising clouds overhead were beginning to unleash their contents, just a light sprinkle, enjoying the build up to the real storm.

"That's only what grown-ups say when they don't want to have to explain difficult things that make them uncomfortable. And that's no excuse not to do something."

She stared him down with arms crossed. Her red hair was pulled up into a tight bun today, probably their mother's doing, and it made her look all the more strict. He sighed.

"You're right."

"Of course I am."

"Hey now, lets not go getting a big head now."

"Please, I'll never have a big head if I stand next to you."

"Okay now you're just being mean."

He touched a hand to his head. He did have a large head, but everything about Cato was large. She slipped her hand back into his with a sweet laugh and they continued their way towards the town center and her school, raindrops flecking their cheeks like stray tears.

"Just being honest. Papa says you can never be wrong if you're honest."

She squeezed his hand and he pressed back, words like 'I love you' or 'you're one of the most important things to me' left unsaid because a squeeze of the hand was all they needed. As they neared the town center the buildings began to stack together and grow taller, more like a real city with the cobblestone streets and people bustling to and fro. He would have expected less people on the streets this morning due to the growing rain, but as they turned onto Justice way—the road that lead to the town center and the justice building—he was shocked by the lack of people. Where was everyone? Even Cassy noticed.

"It's awfully empty, did we forget some mandatory Capitol viewing?" She asked, looking up at him like he really was the big brother with all the answers.

"I don't think so."

Cato pulled her closer and quickened the pace. He wanted to get her to class already and off the streets. Something was off; his hunter senses tingled in the back of his mind like little spiders crawling up his spine.

"Look, up ahead!" Cassy shouted unnecessarily—he saw it too. A large crowd had formed in the town square. It was packed like it got for the Hunger Game viewings. "I wonder what's going on. Can we go see?"

"I don't think we should…" Cato slowed down, unsure if he wanted to find out what was happening. "Let's just get you to school. You don't want to be late."

"But everyone's there. Look, I see Asper with his mom!"

She tugged relentlessly and he caved, following alongside her as they closed in behind the large crowd. The rain was no longer a sprinkle, but coming down in a steady pulse of water. The summer air was hot, but the drops of water ice cold. The crowd was loud and riled up. People shook their heads vigorously while others chimed in with angry shouts and a shake of the fist. Then Cato heard Dreg's voice over the dull rage of the crowd.

"The Capitol is not the threat! They're our friend and friends take care of each other!"

The crowd burst into abrupt applause and cheered at that. Cato didn't like where this was going.

"But there is a real enemy out there and they want to destroy everything we've worked for, to throw us back, the whole country, back into the dark days!"

People stomped their feet and jeered. Men threw their fists in the air and cried out things like 'we'll never go back' or 'they must be stopped!' That's when Cato spotted Lyme among the crowd. She saw him and paled.

"What's he talking about?" Cassy asked, shielding her eyes from the rain. She strained to see anything over the crowd in front of her, but she was too small.

Lyme began to push her way through the crowd towards them shaking her head. She was trying to tell him something. Something urgent. Her usually strong and composed look replaced by one of anxious alarm. She waved with her arms at him and mouthed something. Something like 'go.'

But it was too late. Dreg was now shouting about the terrorists trying to subvert the message of the Games, people who used fear and tried to turn those being rightfully punished to their side. People like Cato Ryves and the _boy on fire—_he sneered and spat on the ground to great applause. Now he was screaming as the rain poured down his face and drenched the clothes he stood in. District Two needed to show its pride for the country of Panem, to give thanks to the Capitol and support it. To fight back!

"Cato I don't like this, I wanna go." Cassy tugged on his arm, trying to pull him away, but the crowd was now worked up into a frenzy, feeding off each other until they were working in a mob mentality. More had showed up behind them and trapped them in the throbbing crowd.

"RUN!" Lyme's voice rang out over the crowd for Cato, but there was nowhere to run too. The mob had spotted Cato and swarmed him like a tidal wave. Cassy screamed in fear. Cato tried to get to her, but they were forced apart as the horde bore down on him. He pushed as hard as he could, desperate to reach his sister and get her to safety, but it was like trying to swim through dirt, no one gave an inch. A woman spat on him. Another called him a traitor. They shoved at him, the rain drenched him in thick icy sheets and something hit him over the back of the head. He felt a dull throb and the hot release of blood down his neck. He started swinging, trying to take down anyone near him when another man locked Cato's arms behind his back. "Cassy! Cassy get out of here! Go!" He shouted, struggling like mad against his captor. Then a monster of a man moved in front of Cato blocking the rain from his face. It was the fearsome Brutus. He raised his arm and then brought a massive fist down on Cato's face. The last thing he heard was his sister shrieking and the cheers of the crowd. Then everything dropped away into nothingness and an explosion of white behind his eyelids.


	11. Chapter 11

******Okay, well we're getting so so close to the start of the Quarter Quell and I just can't tell you how excited I am! It's all really going to kick into high gear soon and I hope you will find yourself both surprised and breathless! So stay with me because we aren't anywhere near done!**

Ch. 11- The Longest Night

Peeta hobbled his way to Gale's home in the Seam on his injured ankle. Each step felt like it ignited a small fire in his ankle, but he gritted his teeth and suffered through it, knowing he had to reach the Hawthorne's. Hazelle immediately recognized something was wrong when Peeta appeared on her front door; the fear self-evident on his face.

She ushered him in and helped him to a chair. Worry creased her brow, but she knew he wasn't there for her.

"He's not back from work yet. He should be soon." Hazelle moved back to the stove and started ladling some stew. "Would you like some broth? Your nerves look like they could use some settling."

Peeta appreciated the gesture and was glad not to have to answer her questions. He was still far too shaken up by Darius' sudden reappearance. He needed to talk to Gale. He took the bowl gratefully, but found he lacked much of an appetite. He forced some of the hot broth down to appease Hazelle. She hovered about Peeta with a worried sense of air while also attending to her three youngest.

Finally, after an excruciating amount of time where everyone sat in uncomfortable silence, waiting and wondering, Gale came home. Peeta never got to see him like this—when he came home from work. He always made sure to clean up before ever coming by Peeta's so it was quite a shock to see how much Gale had hid from him. He didn't notice Peeta right away as he came in, instead hanging up his miner's hat and taking a deep breath like he was trying to restock his lungs with fresh air, not the stale and blackened air deep in the mines. He looked haggard and worn down with black soot smeared across any exposed inch of flesh. It was a disheartening sight and even more so that Gale worked to hide his misery from him.

Hazelle cleared her throat and Gale suddenly realized they had company.

"Peeta? What're you—what's wrong?" The expressions on his face quickly morphed from uneasy surprise to concentrated concern. He moved forward to Peeta and brushed off the bowl of stew offered to him by his mother.

"Can we go outside?" Peeta asked, not wanting to intrude any longer on the Hawthorne's dinner.

Gale nodded and led the way out front of their small shack. His eyes sharpened at the obvious limp in Peeta's gait, but he refrained from further questioning.

Outside, Peeta turned to face Gale and expelled all in a breathy rush of words, "Darius is back and he told me he plans to finish what he started, which I'm not sure what that means, but last time it ended with me getting shot and I don't know what to do because the Peacekeepers obviously don't care."

A dark looked overcame Gale's face for a second before it was washed from view and replaced by a cool and collected look, but Peeta could still see the small fire that burned in the back of his blue eyes, just smothered for the moment. He nodded to himself and spoke.

"I'll move in with you then."

"What? No, you don't have to do that—"

"Yes, I do. It's the only way we can guarantee he doesn't try anything."

By the firm set of Gale's jaw Peeta knew his decision was made. This was how they would handle it moving forward and Peeta best get on board with it.

"But what of your family?"

"They'll be fine. It's not like anything will really change since I'm never here anyways with work and your lessons."

"Oh," Peeta cringed internally. He hadn't realized how much time of Gale's he was sapping, but now he couldn't help but feel guilty for stealing him away from his family. They probably needed him. Peeta was being selfish in his dependency on Gale. "I can't ask you to do this. Your family needs you."

"Then why'd you come here?" Gale demanded. The fire flared behind his eyes and Peeta knew he was barely keeping it together. He shouldn't have brought this problem to Gale, but it was too late now.

"I—I didn't know who else to go to…"

Gale seemed to deflate at that and he pulled Peeta into a rough hug. He smelled of sweat and burnt wood and his chest was rock solid against Peeta's cheek. Gale's chin came to rest atop his head. Peeta settled into the hug with a sigh not having realized how much he needed the human contact. He spent too much time alone these days save for when he was with Gale on Sundays and the short visits with Prim or Haymitch. Gale cleared his throat and then pulled back.

"I'm going to clean up here and pack a few things. I want you to go straight to Haymitch's and wait for me there, okay?"

"Okay."

Peeta was reluctant to leave Gale, but he thought it best to leave him to his family. He already intruded enough and now he was stealing Gale away from them. He rushed through the streets making sure to take the long route back to Victor Row so as to avoid the Peacekeeper village. He did as he was told and went straight to Haymitch's house, which was no longer a test in endurance now that Hazelle came by once a week to clean.

"Seems like a smart deal to me. Men like Darius are cowards," Haymitch explained from his slouched arrangement on the couch. He was drinking a mixed cocktail of white liquor and some red juice that was only available in the summer months. "They rely on tricks to overpower and are never one for direct confrontation unless it's on their own terms. Having Gale staying with ya is the best deterrent to his brand of crazy."

"I know, I just wish I didn't have to drag him into this mess."

"It's too late for that. He dragged himself into it back when he found you bleeding out on the streets and took you to the Everdeen's."

"I guess."

Peeta flopped down on the couch next to Haymitch and noticed for the first time what was on the television. It was a news report on District Thirteen. Peeta immediately tuned in to what she was saying, paying close attention to the background for the mockingjay Twill had talked about. A young woman reporter stood in front of the derelict Justice building of Thirteen as she talked of a new report verifying that it was still inhospitable for human life. Just as she was about to send it back to the main desk Peeta saw it. His whole body tensed like a jolt of electricity was shot through him. A mockingjay flew by in the right hand corner of the screen. Twill had been right! But did that really mean the Capitol was lying? Was there still something in District Thirteen that the Capitol didn't want us to know about? Or were they just using stock footage because they didn't want to send a reporter all the way out there? Frustratingly there were no easy answers.

"Are ya even listening to me?"

A hand landed on Peeta's shoulder and he was jolted back to reality. He had almost forgotten he was at Haymitch's, completely absorbed in his thoughts of District Thirteen and rebellions.

"Sorry, just got caught up with that news report."

Haymitch looked up at the television and frowned. "Ah, it's always the same bullshit. Don't listen to a word they say."

"Why do you have it on then?"

"It's entertainin' to watch the Capitol idiots try to report the news with out sharing any real facts."

Peeta laughed as Haymitch threw back the rest of his drink and stood with a drawn out groan to make another. Peeta checked the clock and saw almost an hour had passed since he had been at Gale's.

"Gale should have been here by now."

Haymitch paused on his way to the kitchen and scratched at the back of his head.

"You're right, I'll go check on him. You stay here."

Peeta was on his feet in seconds.

"I'm coming with."

"Yeah I thought that might be futile, but I gave it a shot."

They both left the house and headed back towards the Seam. It was dark out now and Peeta was worried. He never should have left Gale. If something happened to him Peeta didn't know how he would handle it. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he followed behind Haymitch. There was a crowd gathering in the town square when they turned the corner and knowing it to be expressly forbidden Peeta wondered what could be happening to cause people to break that rule.

"What's going on?"

Haymitch didn't respond. He moved in front of Peeta, standing on his toes to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on before his whole body went rigid. He came to a sudden halt in front of Peeta and stopped his progress.

"Go, now. I'll meet you back at my house, get out of here." He looked back at Peeta with a harsh lined face. Peeta didn't like that look or what it was withholding.

"What? No."

His worst fears now cannibalizing themselves, Peeta pushed forward into the crowd desperate for answers. What was happening that was so bad Haymitch tried to send him home? The crowd parted before Peeta, most with downcast eyes of shame and fear while others hissed warnings like 'go back,' and 'you'll only make it worse.'

Then Peeta saw it, what everyone else had gathered to witness. The whipping post was being put to use for the first time Peeta had seen. The man tied to the post was Gale. He was whipped into unconsciousness and his back looked like the raw meat of a skinned deer, flesh hung off in tattered bits and blood smeared across his back and down to stain the top of his pants. It was like standing in the center of a tornado, everything around him swirled in a blurred mess that he couldn't focus on, all he could see was the eye of the storm where Gale laid weak and beaten and Romulus Thread stood with his blood dripping whip, reeling back for another go.

"NO! STOP!"

Peeta threw himself forward. Everything in his mind screamed no. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't think. He just acted on instinct and that instinct was telling him to protect. His body flew before Romulus and extended itself to protect Gale's crumpled form. The furious whip tore threw the air and lashed up across his bared arm at an angle, tearing into as much flesh as possible. It sliced into the flesh like the sharpened blade of a knife and if Romulus hadn't hesitated at the last second it could have cut threw to the bone. A scream slipped from Peeta's mouth before he collapsed to the ground next to Gale, but he disregarded the fire that exploded from his left arm and burned its way up to his shoulder. Instead he turned on the ground to look at Gale. He wasn't moving. He feared the worst. Then there was more yelling.

"Look what you've done! You idiot!" Haymitch was yelling. He was furious.

"Look what I did?" Romulus balked, but his shifty eyes darted over Peeta's face in recognition. His whip was raised again, ready to dispense more fiery punishment. "He's the imbecile that ran before of my whip. I'm dispensing a punishment, no one interferes!"

"He's our Victor and he's getting married at the Capitol after the reaping in a month! There's no way that's going to be healed by then." Haymitch pointed with a shaking finger at Peeta. "I'll be calling the Capitol first thing upon returning home."

Romulus pursed his lip in thought. He didn't look like the type that liked to be outmaneuvered or have his power called in to question, but he also didn't want to anger the Capitol. With a convulsive twitch of the hand the whip finally lowered and he jerked his head towards Gale. "Take him then and be glad it wasn't a death sentence."

The pain flared in Peeta's left arm like an untamed wildfire, consuming everything in its path. But Peeta fought back the pain and cradled Gale in his body after untying his wrists from the post. They were shredded too, probably from fighting against the restraints as the whip cracked against his back in unrelenting punishment. Thankfully more bodies appeared, his father and Mr. Ebsin, the man hired to fix the Everdeen's roof, moved in to help Peeta. Haymitch helped Peeta to stand and it was then that he realized he was crying. He cradled his arm carefully against his chest while the other men moved quickly to carry Gale. He still wasn't moving. He looked like a corpse and Peeta had to look away.

It was then that Peeta noticed most of the crowd had dispersed, fearful after watching such brutal punishment. He saw Romulus storming off in the direction of the Peacekeeper village and he was berating another man. It was Darius. His face was a mess. His right eye bruised a nasty shade of purple and swollen shut while his nose looked broken, there was dried blood all over his face and a few teeth seemed to be missing. His head was bowed in either silent shame or repressed anger. What had happened?

No one talked as they worked quickly and efficiently to build a gurney that could carry Gale to the Everdeen's. He needed to be lain on his stomach, which left Peeta an uninterrupted view of his shredded back. The flesh was angry and red and terribly bloody. So much blood. It radiated an almost visible heat.

As they rushed through the tight streets of the Seam to Mrs. Everdeen's Peeta's father filled him in on what happened. Apparently Gale went after Darius. He beat him pretty good before he was caught and Romulus brought down his whip. It could have easily been a death sentence, but Madge had been there to plead his case. She claimed to have witnessed Darius provoke Gale and with his past track record he couldn't argue it. Peeta wondered where she was now, but he was extremely grateful she had been there to stand up for Gale otherwise this could have gone down much worse. Either way this was his fault. He shouldn't have brought Gale into this.

Mrs. Everdeen flew into action mode once they arrived. Someone must have got to her earlier to warn her of Gale's arrival because she was prepared with a table cleared for him and supplies at the ready. It was amazing to see the seemingly meek woman transform into a fearless caregiver.

"Haymitch, do you have any ice?"

"Already going."

Haymitch took off at a sprint back to his place while Mr. Ebsin backed out and wished us well. Prim pulled Peeta to the side to examine his arm while Mrs. Everdeen worked to clean Gale's back. Peeta's dad hung in the back not wanting to get in the way, but watching with a wary eye prepared to jump in and help if needed.

"Sit." Prim tried to push Peeta down so she could work on patching up his arm, but he barely gave it notice. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Gale. He was still unconscious and he prayed he stayed that way, but he had also never wanted more than to see those blue eyes alert and trained on him at that moment.

"Fuck!" Peeta hissed and jumped back to reality before Prim. She had just applied some mint-scented cream to the gashed flesh of his arm. The cut from the whip was about ten inches long and sliced its way up from his forearm to his bicep in a curved bow shape.

"Sorry, but this will keep it from getting infected and help it heal. You're going to need a sling for that otherwise you'll tear it open every time you bend your elbow."

Peeta watched Prim with a renewed interest as she worked to place a makeshift sling around his arm. This wasn't the little girl he was used to; she was serious and quiet with a laser like focus on the task at hand. Things had changed in the last year and she was no longer the innocent younger sister of Katniss. She was forced to grow up fast as she witnessed renewed atrocities at the hands of the Capitol.

When Haymitch returned he came with a large block of ice from his freezer. It was sweating profusely from the heat of the evening and so Mrs. Everdeen sent them quick to work. Haymitch and Mr. Mellark worked with picks to crush the ice into a slushy mixture. Once it was fine and powdery like snow Mrs. Everdeen quickly mixed it with some other herbal medicines.

"Why don't you give him some of the painkillers now?" Peeta asked in a confrontational tone. They needed to do more!

"He's unconscious now. I'd rather wait to give it to him once he wakes. The pain is going to be severe no matter what we do." Mrs. Everdeen answered, unfazed by Peeta's aggressive tone.

As she applied the homemade snow coat to Gale's back he finally began to stir. A terrible whimper slipped from his chapped lips. Peeta rushed to his side and swept back the hair from his eyes. Prim gave him a cool compress to apply to his forehead and some painkillers to swallow once he fully regained consciousness. The snow sizzled like frying bacon in a pan from the heat of Gale's tormented back. The pain in Peeta's arm was like a conduit to the pain Gale must be suffering, it amplified back at Peeta ten, twenty, a thousand fold and still it never could match what Gale was to endure now. He eventually woke and was delirious with pain. Hazelle came by after getting someone to watch her children and Peeta tried to apologize, feeling this was his fault, but she barely spoke a word. Her eyes were glazed over with a vacant look, a defense mechanism to the pain she no doubt endured after the death of her husband in the mines. Mrs. Everdeen assured her he was lucky Haymitch had ice otherwise this could have been much worse for him. The summer months were the hardest to treat victims of whipping. Peeta came to understand that at one point this was a much more common occurrence and he couldn't help but think this was all ramping up again only because of him, because of the threat of rebellion.

There was a knock on the door and Prim answered it to find Madge. She seemed a nervous wreck with wild hair matted to her head with sweat and out of breath probably from running. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"I brought him some morphling, it's my mother's own private stash. She said he could have it all." She held out in her hand three small vials of a clear liquid. Morphling.

She left soon after passing it off to Prim, a stifled sob escaping her lips as she turned and ran. Peeta wondered what her relationship was to Gale, because she seemed more upset than any casual acquaintance of Gale's should be. But she didn't stick around either, which was odd. Gale had never once mentioned being friends with Madge, but then Peeta remembered the night of the Victory Tour and how he had been standing in the crowd with Madge. So they definitely knew each other. He wondered why Gale might keep this from him? A sour taste filled in the back of his mouth and he sipped on Gale's water with the hope of washing it out.

With the morphling administered, Gale visibly relaxed, the tension flooding out of him like the breaking of a dam. Peeta declined the offered snow coat for his arm; he refused to take any when Gale so desperately needed it. He sat in the same wooden chair Gale sat in while watching over Peeta when he had been shot. It was his turn to keep constant vigil next to his friend. He caused this and so he would suffer the pain of a whip lashed arm and more if needed.

"S'good stuff…" Gale mumbled, turning his head to the side to look at Peeta. There were those blue eyes, drugged and droopy, but not yet willing to give up. "M'shrry."

Taking Gale's hand in his, Peeta squeezed it tight and shushed him. "Don't. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. Try to rest."

Gale murmured more unintelligible things to himself, but seemed to take Peeta's word and tried to rest. His hand hung limp in Peeta's and he watched as consciousness slowly drifted from him like a boat unmoored. With nothing more left for Mrs. Everdeen to do she collapsed in her bed behind the partition, obviously exhausted by the nights events. Haymitch left along with Peeta's father, promising to check back in tomorrow with more ice. They told him to try and get some sleep too. Peeta wished he could sleep, but knew it would never come to him. Not tonight. A live wire of electricity pulsed through the center of his body with shocks of worry and fear. Everything was so fucked and nothing was getting better. Peeta didn't know what was left that could be done. It all seemed so futile.

After Prim joined her mother to sleep Peeta was left alone to care for Gale. He kept applying fresh snow coats across the mangled landscape of his back. Peeta tried to make a count of the number of times the whip had cracked across Gale's back, but it was only guesswork due to the nature of the wound. Some slashes across his back were deeper than others from where the whip had sliced into his skin more than once. Tears built in the corners of Peeta's eyes and he wiped at them furiously with his one good hand, not wanting to leave Gale's hand empty for long. Companionship was all he could offer at the moment and this display of weakness was inhibiting that. He cursed himself for being so weak when there was a sudden flash of light. The brilliance of it illuminated the night sky like the sun were rising early and speared through the windows. Then the explosive sound followed. It rattled the windows and floorboards of the house. Dogs howled in fear and Prim's cat buttercup suddenly tore out from its nest under the cabinet hissing in fear.

"_What happening_?" Prim screeched.

Peeta stood up—the chair knocked back by his abrupt movement—and ran to the door. Outside he looked to the west and saw a giant ball of fire mushrooming in the air before it evaporated into smoke. Lantern lights flickered into life all around as people woke and wondered out into the street looking for the source of the explosion. Peeta could tell by the direction and placement of the fire it was the hob. Someone had blown it up. Peeta had a good bet on who was the culprit. A woman's cry reached Peeta's ears and he tore off towards the fire with out thinking, disregarding Prim's call after him.

He reached the site of the Hob only to find utter destruction. Everything had been leveled by the blast, including a few of the shacks that surrounded the giant structure. Ember's filtered down from the sky like burning snowflakes turning the world into a hell like nightmare. Peeta rushed about looking for any injured. No one would have been in the Hob at night, but Peeta, soon joined by others looking to help, found a woman and her son buried beneath the rubble of her home. He tried desperately to lift a fallen beam, but his injured arm made it impossible.

"Over here! People are trapped!"

A group of men, miners by the look of them, went to quick work digging the woman and her son out of the ruins of her home. Peeta scanned the area for more possibly trapped when he noticed Romulus standing off to the side in a shadowed alleyway, a vile smile planted on his face. Things suddenly got a little fuzzy and Peeta felt faint for a moment. He was forced to take a seat on a smoldering trunk. Next thing he knew a man was in front of him asking if he was all right.

"What?"

"I asked are you okay, boy?" The gruff man asked.

Peeta took stock of his surroundings and realized he was alone again. Where had everyone gone? There had just been people here working to rescue that family.

"Yeah, sorry. Just in shock."

"Yeah, that shits been happenin'." He commented before wondering off into the wreckage of the hob, probably scouring for anything salvageable.

Back at the Everdeen's Peeta found Gale fast asleep and the snow coat melted. He wet some washcloths in the cold liquid of the melted snow coat and applied them to Gale's back. He couldn't help but trace the contours of his back with his eyes. It was terrible to think such a nice strong back would be marred forever with the scars of tonight. A permanent reminder of the cost of Peeta's friendship. Peeta shook his head of such disturbing thoughts and took his seat back by Gale's head. His hand still hung limp over the side of the table and Peeta took it in his again except this time Gale's hand reflexively tightened its hold. Peeta smiled lightly before the exhaustion hit him like a train and carried him off to the land of dreams.

He dreamt of wild things that night. Twelve was burning before him and there was nothing he could do, but watch as the flames devoured his home and everyone in it. He was at the Capitol and Cato was waiting in a blue tuxedo to marry him, except he couldn't seem to bring his feet to move toward the altar. Then District Thirteen attacked and Gale appeared from nowhere, begging Peeta to follow him. He woke to Primrose poking his shoulder.

"You were having a nightmare."

Peeta rubbed the sleepers from his eyes and thanked Prim for the milk she offered him fresh from Lady.

"How is he?" He nodded towards Gale.

Prim shrugged. "Good as can be given the circumstances. Mom went to go treat some injured by the Hob explosion last night while Gale's still sleeping. Haymitch hasn't come yet, could you maybe check on him and get the other ice block?"

"Yeah, sure."

Peeta shook his head, having a feeling he would find Haymitch comatose with an empty bottle of booze. There was no way he would have shirked his duty unless he drank himself unconscious. Once outside he noticed most of the tin roofs were layered with a fine dusting of ash, almost like an apocalyptic snow. But that wasn't the worst thing he noticed. Not only had the Hob been destroyed last night, but also the mines had been shut down. Small notices had been posted to everyone's door over the course of the night notifying them the mines would be closed indefinitely. Peeta couldn't think of a time when the mines had been shut down, but he knew it only meant bad things. People relied on the mines for their livelihood. The hours were crap, the pay terrible and the work dangerous, but it was all they had and with out it people would starve.

Then Peeta halted in his tracks, all thoughts blown from his mind as he entered the town square. Blood still stained the pavement at the base of the whipping post. Gale's blood. But that wasn't what drew Peeta's attention, what made it feel as if a ghost were reaching out and crushing his airway. No, what drew Peeta's attention where the gallows at the far end of the square. Another crowd had gathered, this time by the looks of it against their will. Peacekeepers flanked the wooden structure of the gallows with their rifles in hand and menacing looks pinned to their face. People whispered in confusion as Romulus marched two women onto the platform and placed the noose around their necks. They were gagged and bound at the hands, but silent tears streaked down their terrified faces. Peeta's vision wavered before him. This had to be a dream, a hallucination. It wasn't real. But the bile that bit at the back of his tongue tasted real enough and so was the sound of the release lever as the trap door below their feet let out. Their necks snapped with the force of the drop and echoed across the fearfully silent square like the crack of a gun. They died right before Peeta's eyes and he had to pretend he was just as confused as to whom these two girls were like the rest of the onlookers. But he knew exactly who they were because he had met them only the day before. They were the refugees from the woods yesterday afternoon, Bonnie and Twill. And now they were executed by the Capitol.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for all your responses! **

**Guest- I'm sorry to have made you so conflicted, but also pleased! lol And thanks, I do like working in memorable moments from the book but making them work for my own story. I'm always glad to hear its enjoyed by the reader too.**

**damienne- Well thank you! I do really put a lot of thought into how I portray the characters and their interactions, so I'm thrilled that I've been able to challenge your preconceptions going into this story (and Blood Games, I really had no idea Gale would become so popular in that one!)**

**kaesaku- More Peeta/Gale moments coming your way below. Sorry I can't answer that question, but if you lobby hard enough you never know what will happen. I have everything planned to the end, but I've left my options open for a number of resolutions depending on how things play out here and how you all respond to it.**

**sakuradrops- I've broken this story up into 3 parts. So this chapter closes out part 1 and then ch. 13 will begin part 2. It's nothing terribly important, just how I've decided the story would work. Kind of like in the book Catching Fire how it's broken into parts or books.**

**Annabanana- Thank you! I'm excited to see what you think of the Reaping!**

**This is the longest chapter yet and a with the Reaping finally here a lot goes down as you can assume. Hopefully you are surprised by the turns in this chapter. I was very excited to get here as this chapter really turns us to a new page going forward. Is it cliche to say nothing will be the same again (because I'm saying it). I think you will really see things start to ramp up in a way it hasn't been so far. Especially with the Quarter Quell closer than ever. **

Ch. 12- The Rebel

The district was starving. The mines still weren't open. Almost a full month had passed since the explosion at the Hob and Gale's whipping, but still the Capitol inflicted their punishment on the innocent like they had openly incited a rebellion yesterday. An air of desperation settled over the District like a foul smog. The longer it hung in the air the more it filled their lungs and seeped into their brains. People were being driven to extreme measures to survive, but opportunities were severely limited with the fence electrified at all hours now. Lines of woman, some as shockingly young as twelve, began building outside the male Peacekeeper's homes waiting and hoping for a chance to sell themselves for a bit of money or food. Children with distended bellies became an all too common sight. A few have even resorted to suicide to escape.

Peeta tried his best to keep those closest too him from feeling the full effects of the starvation. With his winnings he was able to keep food on their tables and hope in their hearts. But with each passing day hope never gave way to a better day. Primrose was distraught to find one morning that her goat Lady had been stolen and was now probably someone's dinner. Gale had moved in with Peeta like he planned, but now it was on Peeta's insistence so he could help nurse him back to full health. It was a long and painful few weeks for Gale as the wounds on his back healed. The herbal paste Mrs. Everdeen had concocted did wonders for helping speed up the healing process, but the scabs itched something fierce and created limited mobility for Gale for almost a week straight.

During that time Darius disappeared from public view. Many assumed Romulus dealt with him personally, wanting to mitigate any future scandals that might be the last push the District needed to an all out rebellion. It was a precarious game everyone played as the District balanced at the precipice of war and death. Peeta wasn't sure where he fit into that game anymore, everyone around him continued to get hurt no matter what he did.

Most days it was just Gale and Peeta. Prim and her mom would stop by every now and then, to check up on their patient and to socialize with Peeta. Haymitch kept to himself the closer it got to the Reaping. He was suffering some pretty rough withdrawals due to the Hobs destruction and thus his only source for white liquor. He wasn't a pleasant person on most days, but now it was even worse and everyone gave him a wide berth.

Living with Gale was nothing like Peeta expected. Obviously he hadn't thought he'd spend most of it playing caretaker to a recuperating Gale, but on top of that he never had to share his home with anyone other than family. At first he reverted back to his quiet, submissive self out of habit. When he lived with his brothers and Mother it was best to just go unnoticed and roll over when they were in a mood. But sharing a house with Gale, a true friend, was nothing like having to share a room with his two vindictive brothers. Gale was the perfect roommate; conscientious and courteous and desperate to pull his own weight, which led to a blow out fight one night because his back still wasn't healed enough to be doing chores around the house. Peeta wasn't about to let him reinjure himself just because he wanted to pick up around the bedroom. Gale's stubbornness made it a long night, but Peeta managed to get his way—mostly. But if Peeta didn't keep his eye on Gale he'd find a chore done that shouldn't have been. In the end it was just best to turn a blind eye as long as they were little chores and not the heavy lifting.

It was an interesting experience, sharing a home with someone other than family. Peeta learned a lot about himself over the course of the month with Gale that he never really knew. Like how he really enjoyed cooking when he had someone to do it for or just how much more content he was having someone in the house. It was crushingly lonely spending most of his days in an empty house and just the knowledge that there was someone else in it with him put his nerves at ease. He also learned a lot about Gale that he'd never noticed before. Like how he had the habit of chewing his fingernails when bored and that he often talked under his breath to himself when thinking. The little quirks only endeared him more to his friend. It felt nice to be able to know someone so intimately and have them know him in return; like how Gale knew to distract Peeta with stories when he quiet grew because otherwise he'd be trapped by the dark thoughts that swarmed his brain like an invasion of summer cicadas.

It was the day before the Reaping and there was really nothing either of them could do to take their minds off it as they tried to watch the television. It hung in the back of their minds like an unwanted guest who'd greatly overstayed her welcome. There was no way to get rid of it and ignoring it wasn't a possibility. On top of it all Peeta hadn't heard from Cato in weeks and with the Reaping tomorrow he couldn't help but let his fears get the best of him. What did it mean? Was Cato done trying to make them work? Had something happened? Or was he just trying to minimize the pain if one of them were to be sent back into the Arena? There was no way to get answers and Peeta grew irrationally irate, standing in a huff and throwing the remote at the television.

"Peeta?"

Gale came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and a question on his face, stopping Peeta's march from the room. Peeta deflated just as quickly as the anger had flared inside him. He was acting childish and he knew it.

"Sorry, I just couldn't listen to that crap anymore."

"I know it's all sickening. They act like nothings wrong. Like everything is perfect in the world and we're not starving and fighting for out lives out here." Gale nodded in understanding before taking a large gulp of water. Peeta watched his Adam's apple work against his throat as he swallowed.

Peeta shook his head to clear it and leaned back against the doorjamb they stood in.

"I'm just so tired of it all, Gale. When will it end?"

Gale wiped some moisture from his upper lip across the back of his hand. Peeta stole the glass of water from him and finished it off, suddenly parched.

"I don't know. It's all so fucked up. They live in luxury in the Capitol I can't even imagine, taking what they want from us —what they think they're entitled to—and give nothing back. They take and take and take, our kids, our food, our resources; they'd bleed us dry if it gave them benefits. We mean nothing to them and yet everything. With out us—"

"There'd be no them." Peeta finished for Gale. He stood ramrod straight as an idea suddenly blossomed forth in his mind. It had always been there, but never taken seriously. Not until now. But it should have come sooner. Hadn't he already made this decision once before, back in the games?

"I'll be back, I—I just have to see Haymitch real quick."

"Okay," Gale shrugged and moved towards the couch, careful not to lean on his still sore back.

Surprised, Peeta found Haymitch in his backyard. He was on his back, one behind his head the other fiddling with a dandelion against his chest, while staring up at the sky. It was a disconcerting image. It wasn't often that Peeta found Haymitch in a relaxed position, seemingly daydreaming, while outside. Peeta was afraid to disturb him, but of course he already had.

"Afternoon, Peeta."

His eyes never left the azure sky. Peeta wondered what he was contemplating. Things like a rebellion and a better Panem? Or maybe a lost love? There were so many things Peeta didn't know about this man that he had so quickly come to love and respect.

"You doing okay?"

"Humph, okay. That's a very subjective word, but I guess ya could say so. I'm no longer suffering night sweats and the debilitating urge to drink."

He stood from the lawn, brushing off the grass that clung to his back.

"You came to visit for a reason? Other than that the Reaping is tomorrow."

"It kind of has to do with that." Peeta took a deep breath. He thought of taking their conversation elsewhere, somewhere more private, but the houses were probably under surveillance. Outdoors seemed safest for now. So he laid it all out in one rushed breath. "I want to start a rebellion."

Haymitch stared at Peeta for a minute like he hadn't said anything at all before the corner of his lip twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile, but instead he shook his head.

"You don't know what you want."

"That's not true." Peeta bristled indignantly. Haymitch knew nothing of what he did or did not want. He knew nothing of the defiance that lived deep in his bones and constantly thwarted his more rational motivations of compliance to the Capitol. "People are dying. More are going to die soon. Eight has already rebelled—"

"—How do you know this?"

"It doesn't matter." Peeta spoke, growing more animated by the minute. "More could be ready to fight right now or they're just waiting for someone like me to make a stand. Something needs to change!"

Haymitch's eyes shifted about before settling on Peeta's. His stare was deeply penetrative and Peeta grew uncomfortable under it. Actually he was starting to feel nauseous and light headed, like he had suddenly jumped to his feet and the blood in his head had yet to follow. The collar of his shirt was too tight around his neck and he tugged at it needing more airflow.

Haymitch took a breath in preparation before he spoke. "If this is what you really want there is something I should—_Peeta_?"

Haymitch's voice distorted like he was shouting from the end of a long tunnel. The world spun and then all Peeta saw was blue as he hit the ground. Finally everything went black and silent.

Peeta came to in his bedroom surround by worried faces. Gale was seated in a chair right by the bed, his face inches from Peeta anxiously inspecting him. Haymitch stood off to the side with an uneasy expression settled into the wrinkles of his face and then Prim was stationed at the foot of his bed with a mug of herbal smelling tea.

"Uh, what's going on?"

"You don't remember?" Haymitch asked; eyes sharp like a hawk.

"You fainted!" Gale said a little strangled. "Haymitch said you were talking outside when you got this vacant stare and then just tipped backwards, rigid like a plank of wood."

"I—I don't remember…" Peeta tried to think back on this morning and it was all just a fuzzy memory. "I don't remember anything after lunch. Is something wrong with me?"

Prim shook her head and moved forward, pushing Gale back from the bed to hand Peeta the tea. It had a strong bitter smell.

"It's probably just an effect of the fainting spell. You're stressing too much about tomorrow. Drink this, it'll renew you," Prim said all professional. It never ceased to surprise him how natural she was with this stuff. It had to be from all those years of watching her mother work.

"But what if it is something? Haymitch!" Gale stood and marched over to him, grabbing his arm. "You've got to call in a doctor from the Capitol. He needs a proper check up!"

Haymitch heaved a sigh carding a hand through his long hair.

"The Reaping is tomorrow, there's nothing they'll do."

Peeta was beginning to worry Gale was right. Maybe something was wrong. Things had been weird for a few months, small things that maybe if he strung them together in the proper order would mean something. But at the moment he didn't have the frame of mind or proper context to put it together. He started scrabbling at the sheets, trying to climb out when Prim threw out an arm against his chest to stop him.

"You need to rest and Gale you need to leave. You're not helping Peeta right now, you're just getting him worked up." Prim spoke in a demanding tone that left no room for questioning. Her stare was as fierce as Katniss's and Gale quickly agreed in the face of it, bowing his head and backing out.

"Sorry, you're right. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Both Haymitch and Gale left the room after that and Prim settled into the empty chair next to the bed. She had a bright smile planted back on her face and a twinkle in her olive eyes.

"What?"

"Oh nothing."

It didn't seem like nothing to Peeta. She was smiling over something, but she soon turned quietly thoughtful.

"So what's up?"

"Huh?" Peeta cocked his head in confusion. Prim smirked before pushing at his hand that held the tea. He took another big sip and he had to admit he was feeling better. The warm liquid calmed his stomach and cleared the fog from his brain, although he still couldn't remember much after lunch with Gale.

"How are things with Cato?"

"Fine—" Peeta chocked off at the end of the word. He couldn't even begin to lie about it and so he threw back the rest of the tea before twisting in the bed to face Prim, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. "Okay that's a lie. Things are far from fine." A plaintive sigh escaped his throat. Was she the appropriate person to talk to about this? "I haven't heard from Cato in weeks. I just want to know what's going on. Is he okay? _Are we_?" Peeta flung his hands about in exasperation, deciding she had seen more than he had at her age and relationship drama was the least of it. "What if he is done with me and that's how he's choosing to end it, just by cutting me out. I know things are difficult for him in Two because of me and I wouldn't blame him for cutting me loose. I'm probably more trouble than it's worth…"

Prim just sat and listened. She didn't interrupt or try to assuage him of his fears. She just gave him her undivided attention and it was actually a relief to finally get it all off his chest. He could have told Gale, but it didn't seem like something he could talk about. They never really talked about Cato when together.

"Do you still want to be together?"

"Yes, of course! But…" Peeta couldn't look her in the eyes as he thought this. He was ashamed of these thoughts, but they couldn't be helped. "But I just wonder are… are we meant to last?"

Prim said nothing. She just kept looking at Peeta. There was no judgment, just patience as she waited for him to continue speaking.

"I mean I want us to last. I still love him, but I can't help but wonder if this is how it should be. Should it be this hard? It's been so long since I've seen him and we were together so short a period of time. Would we even be able to make it work long term in person? Is he even the same person? Who am I anymore? A rebel, a lover, a leader or a pawn? I don't know!" His fist slammed down against the mattress in frustration. "The only thing I do know is he was the first person I ever loved, but does that necessarily mean he'll be the last? We don't even know what it's like to be with each other every day, what if we don't work together. We only know fighting to survive and so what if we could be together, in person and just living life. Would that be enough? There are so many what ifs in my mind and I don't know the answer to any of them. We've been in a relationship for almost a year now and there is so much I don't know about him. So many little things you learn that only comes with being with someone everyday."

"Like with you and Gale?" Prim asked and it was like a ton of bricks had just been dropped on top of him. All his breath was expelled from his lungs and he was at a loss for what to say. He just gaped at her like some fish out of water, mouth slowly opening and closing. "You two have spent almost every day together for the last month and then every afternoon and Sunday before that. You must know all sorts of the 'little things' about him."

She looked at Peeta keenly, but with out demands. Peeta tried to think of a reply, but there was nothing he could say. He didn't even know what she was getting at, but it troubled him. She smiled softly and rose, dusting off her jeans out of habit before saying there was more tea downstairs and to keep drinking it. Then she left to spend the evening with her mother before the Reaping tomorrow. It felt like a goodbye, even though they were both willfully ignoring it because a goodbye meant too many things they couldn't think about. Not now. Not yet.

Peeta hadn't necessarily avoided Gale the rest of that day so much as isolated himself in the bedroom. The hours seemed to be slipping away right before his very eyes and the more he tried to hold on to them the faster they fell through his fingers. Soon it would be the morning of the Reaping and everyone's life would be irrevocably changed once again. Peeta wasn't ready to face that, but eventually he would, there was no denying it. So he sucked it up and went downstairs to see what he could scrounge up for a late dinner. His memory still had yet to return to him and he worried that if he continued to isolate himself he'd go further down the rabbit hole of crazy theories.

It was quiet in the house and for a brief moment Peeta panicked that he had been left alone. But then the backdoor opened and Gale came in, something hidden behind his back.

"Peeta! You're up."

"What you got there?" Peeta asked, angling his head to try and see around Gale. He danced to the side and shook his head, a playful quirk of his sculpted jaw aimed Peeta's way.

"You'll see in a minute. Have some food, I cooked." He pointed with his free hand to the plate set out on the counter that Peeta just now noticed. It was just a sandwich, but Peeta wasn't picky. He picked it up and devoured it in a few bites.

Gale moved to the cabinet and took out two glasses before pulling from behind his back a clear bottle of white liquor.

"Where'd you get that?" Peeta asked stunned. Since the Hob had burned down no one had found a way to smuggle in the illegal liquor. If they had Haymitch would have found it.

"I had a little stash of my own, just for such occasions as tonight."

He poured a liberal amount of the alcohol in the glasses. Then handed one to Peeta and clinked the glass in cheers before taking a sip. He hissed at the burn.

"And what's the occasion?"

Peeta observed the liquor for a moment unsure if he wanted to indulge after the day he had, but Gale seemed to relax immensely after the first sip.

"Our last night of freedom before the Hunger Games machine ramps up again and we're forced to watch all that bloodshed for sport." Gale smiled charmingly and Peeta felt one spread on his face in return. Then it fell away as he remembered Prim's words.

"C'mon," Gale shoulder bumped Peeta. He couldn't deny Gale's attitude was infectious. "Everything could be fucked by tomorrow so why not enjoy the now?"

"Fine, but if I'm hungover tomorrow I'm volunteering you for the Quarter Quell." Peeta pointed the glass at Gale threateningly before throwing it back all in one go.

"Ha! Shit, you took that like a pro." Gale guffawed.

"That's not all I can take," Peeta replied salaciously, a single eyebrow cocked Gale's way. Gale stared at him in disbelief for a moment, jaw hanging limply before Peeta crowded forward and closed it for him with his index finger. "Close that mouth, you're drooling."

Then Peeta leaned past him to grab the liquor bottle—ignoring how Gale stiffened when their chests brushed together for a second and the tickle of breath against his ear—before heading into the living room. He wasn't sure what came over him, maybe it was the liquor, but Peeta wasn't about to question it. Gale was right; everything could be fucked tomorrow, so tonight he wasn't going to think about it. Tonight he would drink.

He was followed to the couch soon after by Gale, who cleared his throat before taking a seat and downing the rest of his drink in one go like Peeta and then pouring another.

"I guess the good thing about all this is you don't have to worry about any of your brother's getting reaped this year." Peeta said. He was trying to go for lighthearted, because really that was good news, but Gale's eyes only darkened at the mere mention of tomorrow.

"I still have to worry about you."

They both fell into a silence after that. Peeta poured more liquor and sipped on it this time already feeling the familiar sensation of the alcohol warming his stomach and buzzing his brain.

Eventually the conversation returned as they loosened with the liquor flooding through their system. Gale flipped on the television and they made a drinking game out of every time the Hunger Games was mentioned or a clip was shown from the previous games. Needless to say they got drunk real fast, both of them becoming sloppier with each cheer before they downed a sip of alcohol. Peeta leaned forward for a refill and lost his balance, sliding off the couch to land on his ass. Both of them burst out laughing. Tears came to Peeta's eyes at the hilarity of it all and he couldn't breath with the endlessness of his laughter. It was an unbelievable relief to be able to feel something other than a concoction of depressed anxiety and fearful paranoia.

"You okay?"

Gale clapped a hand to Peeta's shoulder and flopped down next to him. They both rested with their backs against the couch, their legs splayed out under the table in front of them. Peeta gave up on his effort to pour a new drink and instead took a drink straight from the bottle. Barely any was left. He held it out to Gale who took a gulp, finishing off their liquor.

Peeta's head felt foggy, but happy.

He needed to tell Gale this.

"I'm happy."

"Me too." Gale smiled and nudged his shoulder before leaving it there. Peeta felt like all his blood was rushing to that spot, overheating it. His blood was magnetized and Gale's touch was the matching magnetic force that brought it all to the surface in their joined shoulders.

"No, no, no. I mean I'm happy!" Peeta threw his hands up and around in a big arch. "Like that doesn't happen. Everything just—it just sucks… all the time!" Peeta twisted to look at Gale emphatically, his legs folded up between them now. It was very important Gale understood him! "But you don't suck and I—I'm glad we became friends. Wouldn't change a thing about it."

A bright smile spread across Gale's face, his cheeks dimpled with the pressure of it and his eyes blazed like sapphires before a fire. He looked at Peeta like he was the only light for miles in a crushing darkness. Suddenly he reached out and cupped Peeta's face with an open palm. The calloused pad of his thumb stroked against Peeta's cheekbone.

"You the most amazing person I've ever met." Gale spoke with a clarity they hadn't managed since the alcohol kicked in and it startled Peeta. The hand against his face was suddenly the only thing holding his head up. He felt hot all over, like his clothes were a size too small and sticking to him. The house really needed air conditioning. Fuck the Capitol.

"Peeta," Gale spoke his name like a prayer. Like there was only ever one word he needed to express himself and Peeta's name was that word. The melodious deep timber of his voice sang deep in Peeta's veins and he leaned forward as if pulled by a gravitational force. "Peeta, you saved me from myself. I was lost after Katniss, but you never gave up on me. You make me feel alive again. You make it all worth while."

And suddenly Gale was right in Peeta's face. His hot breath ghosted over Peeta's skin. He smelled of the white liquor and something distinctly Gale, like the forest after a summer rain. Crisp and mossy. Their noses brushed and then Gale finally pushed their lips together ever so softly. His lips seared against Peeta's like the kiss of a fire hot poker to the skin, eating away everything inside Peeta until all that was left was Gale's name and the feel of his lips and stubble against Peeta's. A tongue, Peeta couldn't even tell whose, slipped into a warm and inviting mouth and moved against the others in gentle swipes. The heady fog of alcohol in his brain mixed with the sudden flare of lust and pushed the two of them closer together until Peeta was practically sitting in Gale's lap. His strong arms wrapped around Peeta's back, one snaking around his neck and holding him tight as the other massaged the lower point of his back, just above his shorts. Peeta's hands threaded through Gale's thick brown hair and tugged, angling for a deeper kiss that had them both groaning.

The kiss was rough and passionate, yet tame and confident. It begged for Peeta to let loose, to give in and share everything. It was a kiss unlike any kiss Peeta had ever had before and that was because he had only ever kissed one person—

_What am I doing?_ Peeta suddenly shoved away from Gale and his back collided against the coffee table. _Ouch_. The kiss ended just as suddenly as it had started. Gale's eyes flashed with lust and confusion and possibly hurt. His lips were swollen and red from the crashing of their lips and with his mussed up hair he looked absolutely sinful. Peeta needed distance. He scrambled back on his hands and ass across the floor further from Gale. All his balance was lost with the inebriated state of his mind.

"Peeta, I—" Gale tried to reach out for him.

"No!" Peeta held up a hand and cut him off. His voice was louder, harsher than he intended and Gale bowed his head in shame. He remained where he was on the floor next to the couch. Peeta tried to regain his breath, but he couldn't stop thinking about those lips on his. What those rough, coal-miner hands would feel like against his bare skin. Peeta shivered and stood abruptly, desperately needing to clear his head. "I shouldn't have done that—it was a mistake—I'm sorry."

Peeta then turned and ran up the stairs to his room, collapsing against the door once on the other side. His head spun with the alcohol and rapid movement. For a moment he worried he might throw up. He gripped the handle of the door and held on as he rode the dizzying spin of the room before his eyes. Cato. Cato. _Cato._ He chanted the name over and over in his mind, but the more he said the name the less meaning it held. The name became just a word and then a sound that had no meaning. It made no sense to him. He heard the crash of glass in the sink downstairs and his stomach tightened. Then the familiar sound of feet on the stairs and Peeta worried for a moment Gale was coming to check on him, but the sound of his feet moved past his bedroom and to the other guest room. Peeta let out his breath in a rush of air too loud for his sensitive ears before he slid down the door to the ground and put his head in his hands. Everything suddenly ached.

He remained there on the floor for what seemed like hours, but could have been minutes. He had no way of telling. The throb in his head never lessened and the nagging worry in the back of his mind told him maybe it wasn't from the alcohol or even the betrayal, but from the distance between him and Gale. Maybe he needed him as much as the other seemed to need him—which was a concept so foreign to him it was like trying to make oil and water mix, it just refused to comply.

The air in the room tasted stale and a fuzzy film developed along the inside of his mouth. Peeta needed water. He stood and quietly opened the door, cringing at the obscene amount of noise it created. Then he moved down the hall towards the bathroom, tip-toeing by Gale's bedroom so as not to alert him to his presence outside the room. He filled a tall glass to the brim with drinkable tap water and then downed it all in one go. He felt reasonably better after that. He filled it up again to take with him back to his room. Except on his return he found himself stopping outside Gale's door. It was as if every fiber of his being was alive and screaming at him to just go in, just knock, just give a sign that he was out here. It was too much and he couldn't move. He could barely function. Peeta was immobilized by the sound of his bodies need, screaming like thousands of crazed Capital fans. He finally came to rest his forehead against the door and felt a tear slip out of his closed eyes.

This wasn't right. And yet the worst part was it didn't feel wrong.

Then the door suddenly opened and Peeta fell forward, in past the threshold of the door and right before Gale. He stood tall in a pair of boxers and a black v-neck that exposed too much tantalizing golden smooth skin. Gale's eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was pinched in a tight line. But then the pain all washed away as Peeta let out a strangled noise. It sounded like 'I need…' and it was all Gale needed before he threw himself forward, grabbing Peeta's shoulders and pulling them together in a tight embrace. Peeta's feet were suddenly wet as the sound of shattering glass cut through their stifled moans, the glass of water in Peeta's hand quickly forgotten as he threw his arms around Gale and gave himself over to the want of his body.

They stumbled backwards to the bed without interrupting the kiss. Teeth inadvertently clacked and stifled groans slipped from their throats. Even inadvertent pain was glorious. Gale reached behind him to grip his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head. Peeta did the same before their lips melded back together as one. Gale was a strong and confident kisser. He pulled on Peeta's bottom lip until it was swollen and red, then he pushed his tongue in against Peeta's and massaged in a steady rhythm. Gale's rough hands were splayed out on Peeta's back gripping and kneading the flesh like it was dough. The bare skin of their stomachs touched and Peeta could feel each individual muscle of Gale's chest twitch in anticipation. Peeta moved his hands down Gale's muscled back and was jolted back to reality at the feeling of the coarse and uneven scar tissue on Gale's back. Gale froze too, pulling back from the kiss and looking Peeta in the eye.

"I did it for you. To protect you. I regret nothing." He whispered deep and breathless. "I'd do it all over for you in a heartbeat."

"No. I couldn't handle it. Enough people have been hurt because of me…"

"Only because you're worth it."

Peeta stroked the countless scars that laced Gale's back like chicken wire reverently. Each one a terrible reminder of the pain inflicted on the District because of Peeta, each lash like a cut to Peeta's resolve. Anymore and there'd be nothing left. It would all collapse.

A pair of hands cupped Peeta's face and pulled his eyes back up to Gale's. His look was scorching in its intensity, but comforting in its familiar warmth. Peeta let it chase away all the other mangled thoughts he had and gave over to the moment, because who knew what tomorrow would bring.

"You _are_ worth everything."

His words showered Peeta, cleansing his burdened soul and freeing him. At least for the moment.

They fell to the bed and shed their bottoms, now completely naked. Gale gasped and Peeta wondered if this was his first. With a guy. He didn't want to ask, but he moved slowly. Kissing along Gale's broad shoulders and down his throat to the tuft of hair that grew between his pecs. Gale unleashed long wonton sighs that must have been trapped in the depths of his chest for months and now were finally allowed to escape. His hand hesitantly left its perch from Peeta's bicep—where it had been holding a fierce grip—and moved towards Peeta's manhood. He waffled for a moment and Peeta watched closely him for any signs of regret. Gale took a deep breath and then gripped. There was no fear of this being a mistake.

They moved slow and methodically. Every touch treasured, every kiss a revelation. Peeta ran a hand down the rigid contours of Gale's abdomen before lightly grazing his straining cock, which jumped in anticipation. Peeta couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips.

"Quit teasing." Gale gasped. Peeta bit down on a nipple before continuing his exploration of Gale's chest, using both tongue and hands.

"If you insist," Peeta gave a lustful smile before licking a strip down from the center of Gale's chest to the hair nestled above his impressive cock. Then in one fell swoop he swallowed the head of Gale's penis with out warning. The head was large and red and filled Peeta's mouth. Gale bit down on his knuckle to keep from screaming, the hand on Peeta's cock forgotten. The weight on his tongue was familiar to Peeta and he worked to swallow down more of Gale's length until his nose brushed against Gale's balls. He left a trail of saliva along Gale's cock, which he then gripped with his left hand and stroked in time with the bob of his head, never letting up on the suction. The angle of his head made it easier to take Gale's impressive length in. An urge to make Gale feel things he'd never felt before came over him and spurred him on, increasing the pace of his blowjob.

"Fuck, fuck, Peeta!" Gale cried out and pulled Peeta up from his dick.

Peeta finally looked back up at Gale's face afraid of what he might see. Regret, disgust? But instead he saw sweat beaded on his forehead and his mouth hung open. But it was Gale's eyes that held his attention as they smiled brighter than he'd ever seen. He looked truly happy and it was because of Peeta.

"I wont last any longer if you keep that up," Gale panted.

Peeta laughed and wiped his lips before lunging up to kiss Gale. His lips were soft as velvet yet forceful like steel and it set Peeta's nerves on fire.

"Do—do you want to…" Peeta wavered, unsure if it was appropriate, but Gale only watched him with encouragement. "Do you want to have sex?"

Gale grinned like a child before a table full of his favorite desserts. He crushed their lips together and flipped them so he was crowded over top of Peeta. The heat of their bodies made it feel like they were in a sweat lodge. Sweat trailed down the back of Peeta's neck before the sheets soaked it up. Gale panted raggedly before pulling back to look at Peeta carefully.

"I—I've never done—"

Peeta shushed him with a kiss. "It's okay. Just do what feels right."

If he trusted Gale with his life then he could trust him with this. Peeta spread his legs and Gale's eyes darkened with lust, all hesitancy wiped from his face and replaced with a steely determination. He slicked two fingers and pressed them against Peeta's hole. They slid in and a needy whimper fell from Peeta's lips. The pressure was nothing new, but Gale's fingers were longer and they reached deeper. Gale stroked Peeta's dick while working a third finger in and Peeta felt like his whole body was on fire. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this he forgot how consuming the pleasure was.

"I'm ready."

Gale's fingers froze inside of Peeta and his stare latched onto Peeta's. It was as if the very air between their eyes shimmered and danced with the heat of their stare. Then his fingers slid out of Peeta's hole and the loss led to another pitiful groan. Gale hurried to slick his cock with spit before aligning it with Peeta's hole. Peeta gripped the sheets and prepared. Then the pressure built as Gale pushed in and suddenly he slid to the base and they both cried out in unison. Gale fell forward, his chest against Peeta's and Peeta's legs wrapped around his back, resting above Gale's powerful glutes, which were strained tight. Every muscle in Gale's body was taut and the veins on his neck bulged as he struggled to remain still. Peeta squirmed underneath him, writhing in pleasure at the feeling of finally being filled, of finally feeling complete and connected, all because of Gale.

"Wh—why'd you stop?" Peeta asked strangled. He could barely focus. Gale was thicker than he was used to and it had been a while since anything had been in there besides fingers.

Gale didn't reply. Instead he rested his forehead against Peeta's and gave a tentative thrust. They both groaned in unison. Gale brought their lips together and finally began to move; building a steady rhythm that was strong and forceful, but caring and tentative. Peeta soon adjusted to Gale's girth and began to meet his thrusts, begging for it to go deeper. It felt like heaven's touch. The feeling of Gale's body atop him, his rigid member deep inside him, the sweat of their bodies mixing into an aroma distinctly their own. It didn't seem real. It was just a dream like the others, one's he never admitted to himself the following morning. Suddenly that familiar fire began building in the pit of his stomach as Gale's cock brushed over that spot inside him that lit him up like a roman candle. Gale's thrusts grew erratic, his hips stuttering as they worked in and out of Peeta's ass. A hand slipped between their sweaty abdomens and gripped Peeta's neglected cock.

"Oh, god!" Peeta threw his head back, crying out in ecstasy.

Gale latched his lips to Peeta's neck, sucking and kissing all over as he stroked Peeta. The sensations were too much. They overwhelmed him and his mind shut down as he plunged over the edge. His muscled clenched and Gale suddenly pounded faster into his hole as Peeta erupted between them in an explosion of white-hot pleasure that spiked through his whole body like a volcano exploding after a century of dormancy. The sheer force of it was enough to blow everything else from his mind. Gale's gruff cry mingled with Peeta's as his body tensed and his stomach muscles convulsed with the emptying of his seed deep in Peeta. At some point their hands had found one another and entwined in a tight grip, riding out the waves of their orgasm until their skin was white from the pressure.

Slowly Gale pulled out from Peeta and he winced, sore and spent, but also missing the sensation of being filled and connected on such a primal level to Gale. The bed bounced when Gale fell to the side of Peeta, exhausted and with a silly grin on his face, Peeta was reminded how drunk he still was. The room kept bouncing even though they both had stopped moving. His hand sought back out Gale's rougher one and his rabid heartbeat finally began to come under control. No more words were spoken. Peeta wasn't sure it was because they didn't know what to say or that there was just no need to speak. He had never been more conflicted and satisfied and it scared him.

Eventually they both drifted of to sleep, the Reaping the furthest thing from their minds.

Like the snap of a finger Peeta was suddenly at attention. Sleep flew from his body in a second and everything he did from the night before slammed back into his mind like a bullet tearing through his skull. He remained motionless as the onslaught of memories cascaded before his still closed eyes. Then he began to take stock of other things. Everything felt heavy like he was dressed in damp clothing and his mouth tasted like stale liquor. One thing in particular stood out, Gale's limb was thrown possessively across his torso sticky with sweat and their legs were tangled together so that one couldn't tell where the other began.

Peeta opened his eyes to see Gale asleep next to him. He took in Gale's naked form, the dirty blonde hairs that dusted his golden tanned chest, the deep grooves in his hip that pointed like arrows to his flaccid penis. It was tantalizing, despite everything it meant. He had to avert his eyes as a stab of shame hit him like an elbow between the shoulder blades. The pain was sharp and piercing, spreading outwards in his body, leaving him numb and vacant feeling.

_What have I done? _Peeta knew he had made the ultimate betrayal. The ring on his left hand suddenly felt heavier like it was tied to a cinderblock. It was a burden he wasn't sure he could carry. The finger might break.

Disentangling from Gale and crawling from bed Peeta scurried to his room where he dressed in last years outfit for the Reaping. A simple white button up shirt and black slacks—slightly worn at the knees from years of use. In the mirror he caught a purpling bruise on the side of his neck. In the same spot where Gale had kissed. _Fuck._ There was no way to hide it, he tried pulling the collar of his shirt up, but it only hid about half the bruise. His only hope was that everyone would be too preoccupied with the Reaping to be paying attention to his neck. They still didn't know how the girl tribute's slot would be resolved. Peeta gave a shudder like an icy draft had sifted through the room.

As silently as possible Peeta tried to creep down the stairs and out the door. When his hand reached the knob he paused at the sound of a throat clearing.

"Please don't tell me you were trying to slip out before I woke up?"

Gale didn't sound angry, but the hurt was evident in the clipped tone of his voice still groggy with sleep. Peeta couldn't bear to turn around. To face him. Then it might be real and right now it wasn't. It was just a lustful fantasy that he could admit to having had on an occasion or two before. But Gale was making it real. He was making Peeta remember everything he felt, not just the intense pleasure, but also the intimacy and the very real, very deep connection that had slowly built between them over the months. A bridge they built brick by delicate brick between their hearts, helping them move on from the losses in their lives, but also irrevocably connecting them.

"I—I don't know what to say," Peeta spoke softly. His head came to rest against the doorframe.

The stair creaked under the weight of Gale's step. Peeta knew he was coming down for him. He didn't think he could face him. Yet his body yearned for him to cross that bridge, to let their hearts meet.

"Don't say anything, just listen."

Gale was right behind him and his skin rippled with gooseflesh.

"I cant, I'm sorry," Peeta apologized before he flung the door open and ran out. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Not as he turned on to the street and not when he passed from Victors Village onto the main street to the town square. He feared if he stopped running his heart might just give out on him. He had to keep it beating; he had to keep it distracted or else. Else what he didn't know.

The air was more humid than normal. The clouds above swirled angry and menacing like the stubborn black smoke that hung in the air for days over the Hob. The town square was already filling up as the crowd gathered for the Reaping. The children ages twelve to eighteen all gathered in lines even though they weren't eligible to be reaped. It was only between Haymitch and Peeta. There was a fifty-percent chance he was going back in and for the Quarter Quell. Up against tested warriors and brutal killers. His mouth dried out and it felt like a walnut had lodged in his throat. He could barely swallow around it.

Peeta saw his father in the back with the other watching parents. He moved as if to come to Peeta. His rounded face creased with lines of worry, obviously noticing Peeta's emotional state. He had to pull it together; soon cameras would be trained on his face. Peeta shook his head no and his father stopped, unsure if he should listen, but then decided he wanted to ignore Peeta's wishes. Luckily his domineering mother appeared beside him and she locked his wrist in a tight grip. She gave Peeta an acidic smile and then turned her head away as if there was something more interesting going on to her right. Anything was probably more interesting to her than her youngest son.

Soon the cameras were rolling and intruding in everyone's personal space. Haymitch and Peeta were situated on the stage, standing to the right. The Mayor gave his standard speech and Peeta couldn't help, but feel a sense of foreboding. His body itched uncomfortably like ants were swarming over his skin. There wasn't much more he could take and thankfully Effie Trinket gave way with her typically inappropriate enthusiasm for something more subdued as she moved towards the bowl in a shimmering lacey grey frock.

It started to drizzle, a cold rain that almost stung against the overheated flesh of Peeta's body. He spotted Gale towards the back of the assembled crowd, but he averted his gaze before their eyes could lock. The look on Gale's face was one of anticipatory dread and Peeta couldn't handle knowing it was planted there because of him. Had he made the wrong decision? Should he have spoken with Gale before the Reaping? What if he never got the chance again and that was how it ended for them?

"Eh-hem," Effie began by clearing her throat noisily. "This year as you know the tributes shall be chosen from the already available pool of Victors. But that presents a unique problem for District Twelve as there are only male victors from which to choose. So as best to fall in line with the spirit of this years Quarter Quell…" Effie paused Peeta was shocked to see a look of discomfort pass over her face, visible even through the thick layer of white make-up caked on her face. Effie never lost her composure. Peeta suddenly grew infinitely more worried. "…It has been decided that a blood relative of last years tribute, Katniss Everdeen, shall be put forth: Primrose Everdeen."

It felt like the stage on which Peeta stood had collapsed beneath him in a gaping hole that had split forth from the ground below to swallow him whole. His stomach was left lurching in the air above him while he plummeted through the darkest depths of the earth. His heartbeat spiked. The crowd could be heard grumbling unhappily—which was unheard of—but Peeta only had eyes for young Prim as she bravely composed her face and moved towards the stage. It was raining hard now and her nice dress wilted like a flower in a summer drought. He could tell she was in shock. It hadn't hit her yet. It could still be a mistake. Peeta wished for a miracle that it were.

Blue eyes sought out equally blue ones and Peeta finally locked sights with Gale. His heartbeat finally calmed and a sense of peace descended over him. It felt just like the last time he was here exactly one year ago. The decision was made in his mind, the rebel in him firmly committed. Now that it was done he knew what to do. Gale seemed to know too. The bridge between their hearts leaving no doubt as to what was to be done. He looked as if he had just been whipped by Romulus again. And now Peeta was about to land the finishing lash that just might kill him. Effie pulled a dampened piece of paper from the large fishbowl and read a name into the microphone.

Time seemed to freeze as hope lingered in Gale's eyes that it might not go the way Peeta wanted. But he knew it was only false hope. There never was a chance for this to end happy for him, he knew that now and Gale knew Peeta couldn't let Prim go in alone.

When Haymitch's name was read Peeta breathed a sigh of relief and Gale's face collapsed in devastation like a mine caving in on itself. The rain trailed down his face and Peeta wasn't sure if he was seeing tears or raindrops. It was the last image Peeta saw before he stepped forward, lungs full of air and shouted, "I volunteer!"

**And we're right back where we started. Almost. There is no better time than now to leave a review, especially if you've never done so before! I have to know how everyone is feeling about the developments in Peeta's love life. How will things go moving forward? Well I guess that's one of many mysteries to be resolved. Like why did Peeta faint? Is District 12 finally getting fed up with being the punching bag of the Capitol and what really happened to Cato? Well review and I will gift you with some answers in the forthcoming chapter! Oh and a few characters I'm sure you've all been dying to meet will finally be introduced!**

**Good bye for now!**

**Crobb07**


	13. Part 2: Chapter 13

**Okay so before we start this I just have to respond to all you amazing reviewers. I thought that chapter might get a reaction, but you're responses so made my week!**

**Guest: I think you will find your answer to Cato's whereabouts solved real soon!**

**SakuraDrops: I don't think I have plans for a Peeta/Gale fic, but I think that's because I have featured him so heavily in my past two fics now that they feel like I've already written a healthy amount of Peeta/Gale. And there is more to come still.**

**Guest: Yeah I wanted it to be slow and subtle and you were never quite sure if it was leading there or not until it did. And yes, disappearing for a month is a long time. Something must have happened…**

**Exilexi: Geeta(? I have no idea what to call them lol) is so on! **

**Guest : I think you will find this chapter brings both things you want. Cato and Finnick. :) **

**Kaesaku: So glad you loved the Peeta/Gale moments. I was anxious about doing it, but the response has been good. And I wont rule out the possibility of a Geeta happy ending... As for Prim's fate, you'll just have to read and find out. And you know Finnick has to be showing up soon!**

**LK: Haha, I didn't even notice the ho thing, so it's all good. I think after I wrote this chapter I started trippin hard on the Peeta/Gale juice lol. And thank you! Glad you enjoy my writing.**

**Damienne: Yeah I thought people would be surprised by their leap straight into the sheets together, but I think that 'bridge between their hearts' was a pretty good indicator as to why they moved so fast.**

**PJHG: Cliffhangers are my favorite! Haha. And about Cato, he has been missing far too long. I hope he returns soon too… ;) **

**Guest: Yes, Peeta's a cheater which is never good, but I think, like you said, that his circumstances made it understandable, even if it was wrong. Gale does seem to bring out a different side to Peeta so we shall see where that goes… As for allying with Johanna and Finnick, etc, I think you'll be surprised how it turns out in the Arena!**

**LividDusk: Thank you! I was hoping that ending would leave you a little breathless! And yes I wanted the Peeta/Gale thing to not be unexpected when it happened and thus feel right and not forced, but still subtle enough to make you question whether you could have just read too much into it.**

**Okay and so here we are at the start of Part II. The Quarter Quell is right around the corner and never has more been at steak. I'm just so excited to be here and finally start putting into play everything I've slowly been building and setting up over Part I. So get ready because the future of Panem is about to be decided.**

Part II: The Fire Builds

* * *

Ch. 13- Lost and Found

Immediately they were brought to the train and whisked away to the Capitol before the events that had just transpired had time to settle in anyone's mind. No goodbyes were allowed this time, no moments given to gather one's composure. No they were carted off by a brigade of Peacekeepers and taken straight to the train that began moving as soon as they stepped on. It was reminiscent of the time Peeta and Cato were hurried to the train after the Victory Tour speeches. The atmosphere was dangerously close to combusting and Peeta hoped desperately that there was no violence. District Twelve didn't need any more trouble.

Haymitch was brought with them to be their mentor again, along with Effie Trinket as their handler. It was silent on the train car save for the electric hum of the train hurtling its way towards the Capitol and Primrose's stifled sniffling like that of a sick cat.

Even now, miles from District Twelve, Peeta couldn't get the image of Gale's face from his mind. It remained like the ghost of an image imprinted on the back of his eyelids to be seen every time they closed. He couldn't let Prim go in this with out him. Peeta may have broken his promise to Gale, but he knew Gale couldn't hold that against him. He just wished he hadn't been such a coward, that he had stayed and talked with Gale instead of running to the Reaping. Now he knew he would never get the chance again. There was no way he was making it out of the Quarter Quell alive; he had accepted that as soon as Prim's name was called out. He just had to make sure she made it and then he will have made good on his promise to Katniss.

The television wouldn't work when Peeta tried to turn it on and see how the other Reaping's had gone. To get an idea of the tributes they would be facing (or should he say Victors?) and more specifically to see what happened in Two. Peeta's very blood felt like poison to him. It burned through his veins as it raced to corrupt his heart. Would he ever see Cato again? Maybe it was better that he died with this secret. At least Cato would think he had remained faithful. Anything was better than seeing that look of betrayal on his face again, like when he kept from Cato that they couldn't live in Two together.

Why did it seem like Peeta was sabotaging at every turn the only relationship he'd ever had?

It was around three in the morning when Peeta jolted awake to screaming. A young girls scream that he feared he might start to hear all to often. He sprung from the bed like a rocket and ran towards the cries. They were coming from the other end of the train car.

"No! NOOO!"

Peeta burst through the dividing door to find Prim struggling in the hallway with two Peacekeepers. The white uniformed men restrained her arms from each side as she dug into the floor against them.

"Lemme go! It's a mistake! PLEASE!"

While unsure what had happened Peeta lunged into action and threw a punch at the nearest Peacekeeper. Somehow he managed to land a solid hit against the corner of the man's jaw. He fell back into the wall with a grunt. The other Peacekeeper quickly let go of Prim, hands raised. He didn't want a fight. Peeta still held his fists at the ready, the only weapons available to him.

"We were just trying to restrain her. She tried to jump from the train."

Peeta's eyes flicked between Prim and the Peacekeepers, trying to take in the situation quickly. Prim looked frazzled and her hair was distinctly windswept. He nodded.

"I'll take care of it. Thank you."

The one that spoke nodded and turned to leave back to one of the other train cars. The one he punched followed but stopped at the door and intoned gravely, "You better watch her or we'll be forced to restrain her."

"That won't be necessary."

They left and Peeta took Prim by the hand and guided her back to her room. She was shaking like a leaf. Tears streaked her face and her eyes were wild and untamed, like a cornered animal. He made a strangled noise and suddenly pulled her into a fierce hug. She was stiff and shivering in his arms before slowly giving in, nestling her head against his chest.

"Shush, shush, it's okay Prim. It's going to be okay," He whispered soothingly into her hair, wishing he could believe the same for him.

She pushed away and fell to her bed with a sob.

"But it's not! This is the Hunger Games and I'm going to die just like Katniss!"

She was sobbing into the pillow now, her nails digging into the bedding like knives. Peeta didn't know how to help. He sat at the edge of the bed and laid a hand at the center of her back rubbing small semi-circles back and forth.

"That _wont_ happen." Peeta growled. There was such conviction in his words that Prim hiccupped and pulled away from the pillow to look at him. "I promise you Prim, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you make it through this. I've done this before and I'll do it again for you. You're just going to have to trust me. But I need to be able to trust you too. So can I?"

She looked at him confused.

"Why did you try to jump from the train?" Peeta tried to be calm, but the mere thought of her trying to do such a thing—leaving him like that—hit a nerve that made him want to lash out.

Primrose bit her lip and bowed her head in shame. "I just wanted to run. I thought maybe if I could get off the train they couldn't find me and I wouldn't have to do it."

"Oh Prim," Peeta threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back in for another hug. He held her like that for a while before she asked if he would stay with her. Of course he would.

They repositioned on the bed so that she was curled up in his arms. Over the past summer Peeta had come to see her as a strong and determined young woman, but here he was reminded again just how young she really was. This was obviously a cruel form of punishment by Snow against Peeta. He knew if Prim was forced into the Quarter Quell that no matter how the drawing went for the male tribute of Twelve Peeta would make sure he went back into the games too.

"Sing me a song?" Prim slurred sleepily into his arm.

"Like what?"

She thought a moment and the silence dragged on to the point that he thought she might have fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

"Deep in the Meadow… Katniss used to sing it to me."

Peeta felt a hallow pang in the center of his chest. He knew the song though. He had heard Katniss sing it herself once at school. And so he took a deep breath and then began the soothing lullaby.

"_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes _

_And when you awake, the sun will rise…"_

The next morning they were woken by Effie and then escorted to the remake center. Peeta could see the fear of being separated reflected back at him in Prim's eyes and he tried to smile, hoping she knew it would be all right. For now at least.

And then there was Portia waiting to greet Peeta in the holding room after his remake team finished with him (the hickey was quickly dispensed of thankfully and his Pacemaker given a full check up again—all was thankfully good). Their hug lasted only a few seconds, but in that span of time Peeta felt his heart rate calm and his mind put at ease. She always had that effect on him. The calming presence of a maternal figure, she effused love and warmth in her quick embrace. He wished he knew what it was like to have someone care for him like that all his life and not in such a terrible and forced situation.

"So, I've modified a few things I had in the pipeline to work as your costume for the opening ceremony. It'll be similar to your experience with the tuxedo you wore for the interview, but on a _much_ grander scale." Portia laced her fingers together with a glinting smile. He should have felt nervous, but after all this time Peeta had come to trust her implicitly.

"I hope you don't mind that I used some of the items we tried on for your wedding."

It was like being plunged into a tub of ice at the mention of his wedding. Peeta must have made some type of face because Portia tried to assuage his fears by promising to have just as a great a wedding outfit for him when the time came, but she thought this might be an important moment to make a statement. What ever that meant.

Having been through all this before Peeta thought he might be numb to it all, but it was just as surreal an experience as the first. The sheer volume of people screaming and craning their necks to get a peek at him overwhelmed every nerve. All his confidence was immediately lost as Portia brought him to the loading bay where the chariot ride began. There he finally got the chance to see the other Tributes he would be up against. Or he might as well call them what they are—Victors. Proven killers. The best, the most brutal and most cunning that managed to survive the bloodbath and harsh arenas until the very end. Peeta spotted a very attractive pair from One. A golden skinned man with short cropped blonde locks and an equally stunning young woman with the same blonde hair that fell in perfect coils laced with gold down to her mid back. Peeta knew of them, they were brother and sister, Cashmere and Gloss. Both won the games in consecutive years. They were beautiful and deadly. The chariots were lined in descending order, which meant Two was positioned just behind them. Peeta's heart clenched like the tensing of a fist. Who would be the male tribute? There was a terrifyingly familiar visage of a woman with gold-capped teeth filed to a razor's edge. And right next to Enobaria stood the punch to the gut Peeta had been hoping and pleading wouldn't be there.

It was Cato.

A fresh wave of guilt slammed into Peeta like a charging stag, it's antlers boring into the soft flesh of his abdomen, tearing to shreds his stomach and radiating a very real pain throughout his body. Cato was here too. He hadn't escaped. This really was retribution for their actions. And on top of it all he had betrayed the man he claimed to love more than anything. He was led past Cato to his waiting chariot and that's when those loving chocolate brown eyes landed on his. They were surprised and unsurprised, terrified yet defiant, and also oddly worn out. Peeta quickly took in his limp posture and that his clothes fit oddly. Of course that was when he decided to conjure up Gale's face in his mind's eye and he was forced to look away in shame.

Peeta was quickly led to his golden chariot where he reunited with Primrose and Cato's face was lost down the long line of chariots. Cinna was with Prim and she clung to him nervously until she saw Peeta. She made a beeline straight for his side. Her hair was done up in the same style as Katniss's for the opening ceremony last year and a fresh bout of grief washed over him, mingling with the guilt and burdening him with a weight he wasn't sure he could carry. It was all too much.

Then suddenly the ceremony was beginning and the first chariot was out the gate. Peeta's eye briefly caught the chariot for Four before it exited the bay doors. There was a perfectly chiseled male specimen holding a glinting gold trident and his ass was clearly visible through the loose covering of ropes around his groin. Peeta was thankful Portia wasn't that liberal with his costume.

Portia quickly threw the cape over Peeta's back and he fastened it to his collar as she took a torch to the edges. Prim gasped at the effect, which was lost on him as he couldn't look over his back. They were both dressed in charcoal black formal wear. The material of the suit was heavy against Peeta's body while the cape was as light as a feather and he barely registered it hanging off his back.

Then they jolted forward as the horses began to trot out the gates. Prim's hand clung to Peeta's and he squeezed it, winking at her out of the corner of his eye. She smiled and then lifted her head up in defiance. There was no weakness to be seen in her eyes. No fear. Just determination. And then the crowd went wild as they were finally visible. The roar was a deafening concussion that buffeted their bodies as the horses sped them down the cobblestone street.

Peeta finally saw in the monitors lining the streets just how stunning he looked. The cape fluttered in the breeze behind him and was slowly being devoured by the bright red flames that crept up the cape. Soon the fire would engulf the entirety of his black cape. Once it reached his collar he felt a light tingling sensation as the cool flames licked at his skin. Then the audience gasped in unison as the flames suddenly burst outward, devouring his body. Peeta's suit suddenly transformed to a burnt white with trails of flame leaping from every limb. A giant trail of flames was left in their wake, swirling and amassing from the fluttering cape, building in a giant fireball from which burst the giant image of a flying Mockingjay behind them. There was a second of silence as the brilliance of it stunned the audience lining the streets before they flew into frenzy, screaming and crying as they tossed anything available to them into the street. Flowers and jewels, gold watches and wigs, whatever they had available rained down upon them as they passed.

By the time they reached the city circle all eyes, even the other Tributes, where on him.

"I think that was an even bigger entrance than last year if possible," Prim muttered into her shoulder towards Peeta.

He wanted to cringe, but remained defiant in the face of all the cold and calculating eyes watching him. The icy blue ones that belonged to President Snow where the most fierce. He looked down upon Peeta from his perch on the balcony, ready to give his annual opening remarks with such foul hatred in his eyes that Peeta worried if he weren't already on fire he might just combust.

Once it was all over Peeta was practically a nervous wreck. It was an excruciating practice in patience as he waited for all the celebratory opening remarks to finish so he would finally be free to see Cato. And at the same time he was terrified of the possibility. It had been almost six months since they'd seen each other and then Cato just disappeared on him. And now Peeta was a cheater.

So once he was free to go and see him he found himself floundering. Prim hopped down from the carriage next to him with a wide-eyed look and windswept hair from the ride.

"Peeta, I—I saw Cato…" She trailed off at the pained look that flitted across Peeta's face.

"I know. I'm going over."

Cinna came with Portia to collect them, but he brushed past them towards the forward line of carriages where he knew Cato to be. He had to talk to him. He had to find out what happened between them and he had to tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. He might not know what he wanted with Gale (and honestly that wasn't even a factor anymore now that he was back in the Games with no chance of survival) but Cato deserved the truth from him. He deserved the chance to make that choice of whether he still wanted Peeta or not.

It felt like the longest walk of his life down that row of chariots. Each step like pulling his feet from the suctioned grasp of a deep field of mud. But when he finally got to Cato's chariot he wasn't there, which meant he was most likely looking for Peeta too. He scoured the large loading bay for Cato's large frame, but there were so many people, mostly Capitol attendants trying to corral everyone. As he passed by the elevators he felt the familiar sensation of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his brain buzzed in warning. He turned to look for the source when a woman dressed in bark and leafy branches swooped in front of him and pushed him inside the elevator. Just as it closed his eyes connected with a terrifyingly familiar pair of beetle-like eyes. Then they were severed from view as the gold-mirrored doors slid shut.

"Um, what the hell?" Peeta barked as the woman began to undress before him. He quickly averted his eyes towards the ceiling.

"What, scared of a little human anatomy?" The woman taunted in a playful voice. There was just the hint of steel around the edges. She moved in close and Peeta sucked in his chest, trying not to come in contact with her bare breasts. He had never seen a naked woman before and found he was more than uncomfortable.

"No, just not interested in a woman's."

A big smile spread across the woman's face as she ran a hand through her spiky brown hair.

"Mhh, yes I did hear something about that. Betrothed to another male tribute, Cato. Quite the catch. Such a shame. Anyways I thought I'd save you from the daggers being thrown your way by Asasia before one of them actually struck." She turned her back to him and bent over to fetch her costume from the floor giving Peeta an uninterrupted view of her round ass. She was tan all over and Peeta had the distinct image of her tanning nude on her front lawn, mindless to the scandalized stares of her neighbors.

She turned back around and held out a hand, which he took. Her grip was tight and fierce. "Name's Johanna."

"I'm—"

"Please, I know. _Peeta_." She waved him off apathetically. "Everyone knows."

Her bluntness somehow made the awkward situation even worse. He should have known who she was. He saw the games she won. She played meek and helpless until the very end when she suddenly turned to a ruthless assassin with the flip of a switch.

Finally they reached the seventh floor and the nude Johanna Mason disembarked the elevator, but not before turning around and giving one final devious wave to Peeta, her bare body fully exposed to him. He felt the flush of his cheeks as the elevator doors finally closed and then quickly carried him to the twelfth floor.

Peeta was the first one back, because of Johanna's intervention. He wondered who this Asasia was and wished for once that he had actually had access to cable on the train so he at least could have been informed on who all was reaped this year. It was a little terrifying not knowing what experienced Victors where his competition this year, especially with Prim's life in his hands. Thank god he spent the summer training with Gale.

Dinner was a somber affair and Prim barely ate her fill. He could tell she was just as disturbed as he was the first time by the overwhelming amount of wealth and luxury flaunted by the Capitol. But for Peeta he could barely fill his stomach because he was sick with guilt. Cato was just ten floors below him none the wiser that the man he asked to marry betrayed his love. He needed to see him. To get answers. To explain and maybe release some of the pain he was storing before it turned to a putrid acid that would eat away at the rest of his insides.

After dinner Peeta helped Prim fall asleep by singing to her again. He knew the exact moment she drifted off as the delicate hand that held his fell from his grip against the sheets, her muscles lax with fatigue. Peeta got up and quietly made his way to the elevator. His whole being bristled anticipation of finally seeing Cato.

The elevator doors parted with a static hum. Peeta stepped in and pressed for level two, but nothing happened. The doors remained open to the penthouse and the button remained unlit. He pressed it again. Still nothing. What the hell? Soon Peeta found his thumb jabbing the number repeatedly with growing aggression until—

"FUCK!" Peeta shouted and kicked the paneling of the elevator.

Of course it wouldn't work for him. It never did for Twelve.

Peeta took a deep and calming breath before he reached forward and pressed the button one above his. The roof access button lit up and the elevator lurched back to life. A sigh of relief escaped Peeta. He hoped Cato would be waiting for him in the secret garden where they found each other. Except then Peeta remembered the weight on his ring finger and what that meant.

"Please be up here," Peeta whispered as he entered the roof. City sounds burst to life all around him now that he was outside and it was disconcerting after having grown accustomed yet again to the slow and quiet life of district Twelve.

The roof itself was quiet and undisturbed. Peeta worked his way around the center dome toward the garden preparing himself to find it Cato-less. The tree's came into view first and he quickly noticed that they all lacked the white flower blossoms that were genetically engineered to bloom each day. Odd. Then his eyes fell to the lone bench and his heart skipped a beat at the blonde haired man sitting upon it.

Anxiously Peeta rushed forward with Cato's name on his lips. But it died before he had a chance to speak it as the man turned towards him and Peeta took full stock of the person seated on the bench. It was the man he had seen earlier at the opening ceremony with the trident and bared ass.

"Not who you were expecting? Hoping for Cato?" The man asked, his finely shaped eyebrow quirking up in question. It was deviously sexual and that's when he remembered it. Finnick was his name! He was extremely charming and handsome and one of the most popular contestants in recent memory. But he was also from Four. Peeta backed away cautiously, unsure of his intentions. Finnick's grin grew wider before he stood, popping a sugar cube in his mouth. His body was unreal, perfectly golden tan and built as if carved from marble by an artist with an exquisite eye.

"Sugar cube?"

He seemed innocent enough at the moment, if not overtly sexual. Peeta shook his head, declining the offer. He couldn't be sure it wasn't poisoned.

"Suit yourself." He withdrew the handful of sugar cubes and took a seat again on the bench, leaving room for Peeta.

"So do you talk, boy on fire? Or is that part of the whole mystique?" Finnick teased. His eyes were an enrapturing sea green. They demanded your attention and Peeta thought if he wasn't careful he just might give to him whatever he wanted for a chance to stare into those eyes. Peeta shook his mind clear. He couldn't get a grasp on this guy.

"I talk. To those I know."

"Well have a seat and get to know me. I don't bite, unless asked." Finnick bared all his white teeth in a blinding smile at that and Peeta rolled his eyes before deciding to take a seat. He had come up here hoping to find Cato, but he wasn't ready to head back into that prison below. He'd spent more than enough time in that penthouse.

"That's better, no need to be so stiff around me."

The way he said the word stiff made Peeta think of other things. His eyes strayed down Finnick's sculpted chest for a brief look at his package, loosely contained behind the tangled knots of rope and netting. Then he felt his neck heat uncomfortably as he knew he'd been caught. He refused to look back at Finnick's face so instead he looked outwards towards the trees and city lights. Finnick did that on purpose. Peeta could tell he used his sexuality as a weapon and now all those rumors about him didn't seem so fantastical anymore.

"It's okay to look, you know. It's not cheating." Finnick offered with a shrug, leaning back to allow for a better view of his fully exposed body.

Peeta's muscles clenched at the poor choice in wording and Finnick's bare shoulder brushed against his.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? I can be pretty good at that, in more ways than one."

"You didn't hit anything. A swing and a miss I'd say." Peeta bit back, his anger slowly building to a boil in the pit of his stomach. This man knew nothing.

"Then tell me," Finnick spoke delicately. His voice was very soft and alluring, like honey. He was whispering into Peeta's left ear now and Peeta's right hand gripped the edge of the bench, his nails digging in the wood. "What are your secrets, boy on fire?"

Suddenly Peeta pushed off the bench and whipped around to face Finnick, his fingers were quaking with rage. How dare this man try to play him like that.

"My secrets aren't for sale, _unlike you_." Peeta spat angrily.

Then he turned and stormed back towards the elevator. Once inside the domed room he quickly hit the button to call the elevator, but it didn't come soon enough. The door opened behind him and Finnick sidled up beside him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to antagonize you so much. I do feel bad, so how about a piece of advice. It's free, I promise."

Peeta looked at him from the corner of his eye, but remained silent. He was in no mood for more games. This was probably one of the worst days of his life as he slowly collapsed in silent agony from everything that had gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours.

"Tread lightly around my district partner. She has it out for you. I don't think she cares for the rules much, especially the one where you save it until the Arena."

Finnick watched Peeta for another few seconds. His ocean green eyes mapped the layout of Peeta's face with an intensity he couldn't quite decipher. Then he receded back out onto the roof leaving Peeta further flustered. Who was this chick and why did she have it out for him? He thought about that and more on the quick ride back to his penthouse. Like if Cato and he would ever have a moment together again before the games started and it was all too late. Could he actually protect Prim in the arena with such a huge target on his back? And what would become of Gale if he lost another—person (it was the best word he could think of)—to the Hunger Games?

Back in his room he closed the door and flicked the lights on only to find it go black again as a hand clasped over his eyes.

"WHAT THE—" Peeta shouted, about to throw back an elbow into his attackers stomach when the man whispered in his ear.

"Shh, babe, it's me."

The hand fell from Peeta's eyes and he swung around to face the man the voice belonged to, Cato. He looked upon Cato with disbelief. He was shell-shocked. His bedroom was the last place he expected to find Cato, but it shouldn't have surprised him.

"Sorry if I scared you, I just wanted to surprise you…" Cato said. His eyes shifted about the room and his face grew more anxious, like he was worried maybe he had made the wrong decision.

Peeta just stared at him. Drinking him in from head-to-toe. He didn't know what to think. It had been almost half a year since they'd seen each other in person last and now here he was and all Peeta wanted to do was scream at him. _Why'd you abandon me? Why'd you stop calling? WHERE WERE YOU?_

"Peeta? Please say something."

It was the tone of his voice that finally got through to Peeta. It was weak and scared and wholly unlike Cato. That's when he noticed what he had only gleaned at from a distance. Cato was skinnier, he still had muscles, but they were not as bulky as before and his eyes—his deep chocolate eyes were murky and worn down.

"I'm sorry, I was just overwhelmed. I—it's been months and I tried to get to you so many times today I think I had just given up on seeing you and then here you are!"

A tentative smile crept across Cato's face before he brought his hands up to cup Peeta's face. He just stared into Peeta's eyes, swimming in their depths and stroking his fingers over every smooth inch of skin his fingers could reach before he slowly leaned down for a kiss. Their lips had barely connected before Peeta jolted backwards as if shocked.

_Fuck._ He hadn't meant to do that. His body yearned for Cato's touch; even after his betrayal, even though he still wanted Gale. But his mind told him it wouldn't be right. He had to tell him. He was about to speak when Cato beat him to it.

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried that. You must be so angry with me." Cato's head bowed in shame.

It wasn't what he expected him to say at all and for a minute he lost track of his own thoughts as he tried to grasp what Cato could be talking about.

He moved to the bed and beckoned for Peeta to join him.

"I'll explain everything, just lie here with me?"

The desperate look on Cato's normally so confidant and strong face broke Peeta. What happened to his Cato potato? He got on the bed next to Cato and soon found their position readjusted so they were lying on their sides facing each other. Then Cato spoke.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have blamed you for hiding the truth from me. You were only trying to salvage the last of our time together and I pushed you away." Cato's hand reached out and found Peeta's. It was cold and dry like sandpaper. He traced each finger in his own before continuing. "After the tour the district turned on me. Some stopped taking my business while others vandalized my home. In the end, about a month before the Reaping Dreg rallied his supporters against you and I in the town square. They attacked me and took me captive."

Peeta gasped at this. How could the Capitol let something like this happen? Aren't the Victor's supposed to be protected? Cato's hand was now still in his and Peeta took in his face, recognizing a desperation there he had once seen reflected in himself, before he volunteered the first time.

"Oh god, Cato, I—I don't know what to say. How could this happen?"

He cleared his throat before continuing, rolling onto his back to face the ceiling. Peeta didn't want him to turn away, but with this new knowledge he had no idea how to handle the Cato before him.

"Dreg led the whole thing. As the Mayor's son he can get away with a lot and I'm sure the Capitol didn't care. This whole Quarter Quell is in response to what we did in the last games so I'm sure they would have supported it. They isolated and starved me for weeks until the Reaping where I was forced to volunteer. I would have anyways. Anything to never have to go back to that basement." Cato shivered and Peeta scooted closer, laying a tentative hand on his chest. When Cato didn't react adversely he pressed up against Cato's side and held him lightly.

"I thought I was going to die there. I wanted to. But then I would think of you. It was the only thing I could think of, how I would never get to tell you how much you meant to me. How I didn't blame you for anything. That I love you with all my heart. I hated myself for having left it on such a bad note with you. But then I made a promise to myself. That I would make it out of this, for you."

Suddenly Cato turned back on his side so he was facing Peeta again and his face was ablaze with a ferocity that Peeta hadn't seen since the last Hunger Games when Cato was fighting Stasson for their lives.

"You kept me sane. You were the only thing that kept me going, Peeta. _The only thing._" He repeated himself powerfully. The bed shook with the force of his words.

Then he reached for Peeta's hand and pulled it up to his mouth. He laid a delicate kiss atop the ring on Peeta's finger before holding it tightly between them and pulling Peeta in for a searing kiss. All the pain, all the anguish and misery they had both suffered over the course of their exile from each other was relinquished in that kiss in a burst of heat so strong that it felt like Peeta's lips might have been burned.

It was in that moment that he knew he could never tell Cato of what he had done. Peeta was the only thing that kept him going. If he found out it might just kill him—if the Quarter Quell didn't do so first.

**So Cato's finally back! And we met Johanna and Finnick and had quite the entrance at the Opening Ceremonies. How about some reviews? They're my crack.**

**-Crobb07**

**ps- sorry for any mistakes. I only got to edit this once and I didnt want to keep you waiting so I didn't have time to send it to the wonderful matM97 to proof. Hopefully it wasn't too bad.**


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